The title of the play is taken from the following poem which appeares in Lewis Carroll's Sylvie and Bruno (1889) and Sylvie and Bruno Concluded (1893).

Little Birds are dining
   Warily and well,
   Hid in mossy cell:
Hid, I say, by waiters
Gorgeous in their gaiters-
   I've a Tale to tell.

Little Birds are feeding
   Justices with jam
   Rich in frizzled ham:
Rich, I say, in oysters
Haunting shady cloisters-
  That is what I am.

Little Birds are teaching
   Tigresses to smile,
   Innocent of guile:
Smile, I say, not smirkle-
Mouth a semicircle,
   That's the proper style!

Little Birds are sleeping
   All among the pins,
   Where the loser wins:
Where, I say, he sneezes
When and how he pleases-
   So the Tale begins.

Little Birds are writing
   Interesting books,
   To be read by cooks:
Read, I say, not roasted-
Letterpress, when toasted,
   Loses its good looks.

Little Birds are playing
   Bagpipes on the shore,
   Where the tourists snore:
"Thanks!" they cry. "'Tis thrilling!
Take, oh take this shilling!
   Let us have no more!"

Little Birds are bathing
   Crocodiles in cream,
   Like a happy dream:
Like, but not so lasting-
Crocodiles, when fasting,
   Are not all they seem!

Little Birds are choking
   Baronets with bun,
   Taught to fire a gun:
Taught, I say, to splinter
Salmon in the winter-
   Merely for the fun

Little Birds are hiding
   Crimes in carpet-bags,
   Blessed by happy stags:
Blessed, I say, though beaten-
Since our friends are eaten
   When the memory flags.

Little Birds are tasting
   Gratitude and gold,
   Pale with sudden cold:
Pale, I say, and wrinkled-
When the bells have tinkled,
   And the Tale is told.