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
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