And now a poem by Big Bird, that's me. Sometimes I like the shout, yay! Sometimes I like the sing, la la la la la. But when I want a whistle, no one can hear a thing. That little bird can whistle, but here's the fact I found, when I try to whistle, my beak won't make a sound. The windows had a whistle, when it blows through that tree. But when I try to whistle, it won't come out of me. Someday I'll learn to whistle, like big girls and boys, till then I'll use this whistle, because it makes a lot of noise. You