Poetry

Monday, 19 August 2024

Birds

 An ordinary blokes poem of the summer


All the birds have buggered off

Oh what am I to do?

I used to feed them from my window

But now I haven't got a clue


I think they've found another sil

Or else another Gladys or Bill

Charley, Benny, Nigel or Gill

Bloody nosey parker I'd like to kill


If only I were a bird flyin' high

Oh how happy I would be

But you weren't Burt says Mary

You were born an ordinary baby

And now you're an ordinary bloke

Who's just wishing to be free


Listen says Susan to Harold

You should've been born a bird 

If you wanted to fly

Stop chasing rainbows off in the sky

There's people down on earth you know

Who care

Yeah says Harold, which ones, where?

They aren't worth the dirt

Under my fingernails

As I claw my way out the grave to

fresh air

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