My Cockney Great Grandmother used to tell us this version.

There was a little sparrow who flew across to Spain
And when he'd reached his journey's end he flew back home again
Now on his homeward journey he met a sparrow hawk
Who pecked out all his feathers and said walk you bugger walk.
Poor little sparrow, poor little thing
Not a feather on his breast
Not a feather on his wing
Chop his bloody head off!