Sir Crow

Sir Crow 

You are not the type that I hoped would call

No, no, no you are not the type at all

Yet I find your boisterous visit can amuse

There is not much food that you refuse

When my bird house was first put in place

It was for pretty birds to thus showcase

Not great hulking brutes like you young sir

But birds with daintier colours I’d prefer

I have to admit you have some talent

Though very rude and far from gallant

Watching your perfect sly invasive art

To other feathered friends your skills impart

Barging in to grab a chunk of bread

Selecting the biggest piece it must be said

Then drop it in the nearest puddle

To soften your breakfast not to befuddle

As protein is required you find a snail

Break its shell whilst holding firm its tail

There is not much that you won’t eat

Invading gardens is for you an easy feat

I feel toward you considerable aggravation

Death will not arise from slow starvation