Wood-daemon, Guide Me South!
The bittern is a curious bird, according to the sage
Who kept a dozen, howling in an alabaster cage,
Where they were free from commas, to tidy up the sense,
So keep your punctuation locked up in your tense
These birds there were aplenty, ten and then eek two,
The "eek" was from the parakeet, as all the prophets knew
For they told of its coming, and of its going, too,
But, alas, did not foresee the burning of the zoo:
The bitterns did: they fled the fated coops three days before
And tried to send out messages in bleakest Semaphore,
Alas, it's quite impossible to semaphore while flying
So those who warned of danger paid the ruesome price of dying.
The sage beheld disaster, which he at least foresaw,
And was wearing a steel helmet when the bitterns hit the floor
Though that was out of fury, not through their being hoist,
And, because it had been raining, the bitterns were quite moist
And so the floor got dented and also rather wet
The birds love bird food
Let us not forget
Contributors: | Beefy, Roland, Apsley, fester, P, Anon.. |
Poem finished: | 20th May 2002. |