I detest the Carrion Crow!
(He’s a raven, don’t you know?)
He’s a greedy glutton, also, and a ghoul,
And his sanctimonious caw
Rubs my temper on the raw.
He’s a demon, and a most degraded fowl.
I admire the pert Blue-wren
And his dainty little hen-
Though she hasn’t got a trace of blue upon her;
But she’s pleasing, and she’s pretty,
And she sings a cheerful ditty;
While her husband is a gentleman of honour.
I despise the Pallid Cuckoo,
A disreputable “crook” who
Shirks her duties for a lazy life of ease.
I abhor her mournful call,
Which is not a song at all
But a cross between a whimper and a wheeze.
I suspect the Kookaburra,
For his methods are not thorough
In his highly-praised campaign against the snakes,
And the small birds, one and all,
Curse him for a cannibal –
Though he certainly is cheerful when he wakes.