Mister Blackbird
Good morning little blackbird, you’ve been following me around,
Watching me mowing the new spring growth, then pecking at the ground.
I guess you’re glad I don’t have a motor mower, and I too,
For they’re dreadfully noisy, and no doubt would terrify you.
You seem to have taken a shine to me, have adopted me,
And I think that is rather nice, but mind the mower, cheeky.
Yes, you’re getting extremely bold, Mister Blackbird, bold indeed,
And judging by those worms I’m seeing, you’re having a good feed.
Even when I am weeding, you’re not too far away from me,
Watching what I am doing, seemingly interestedly.
Anticipating more worms perhaps, or are you just friendly,
A very sociable blackbird? With an orange beak, I see.
I guess you’ve a nest within bird’s-eye view, and a partner too,
And that from your nest, your daily bread you busily pursue.
I’m sorry it’s not the freshest, for I’ve got to eat as well,
But at least it’s something, and if dipped in water, it will swell.
Even when I am inside, and reclining near the window,
I notice you out there, looking my way, picking at that dough.
But what else can you peck at, when those wriggly old worms won’t show,
And I’m not outside in my garden, wielding my rusty hoe?
I must say I like all the attention that I’m receiving;
It’s rather flattering, but as for my cats that you’re teasing,
Well, I wouldn’t fancy your chances there, for they’re both Siamese,
Who hide in the bushes, and quick as a flash, blackbirds will seize.
You’re certainly a busy little blackbird, about all day,
And when you come close to me, I’m careful lest you fly away.
You’re more than welcome to hang about, and keep me company,
Though not if it’s raining, I’ve no waterproof feathers, you see.
By Lance Landall