Bill-Knobs & Eyeliner

The Mute Swans have the pond to themselves all Summer,
So calm while their chicks are in fleece.
Oh sure, there are the quacks of Mallards,
And the Seagull squawkings never cease,
But all-in-all, they’re kings of the lake,
Seeing off the challenge of the Canada geese –
They even adopt the occasional Black,
And raise their cygnets in peace.

But come October, and in come the mobs of Whoopers,
Honking-up the air.
Even before the last of the cranes has flown,
These tourists are ev’rywhere !
The Mutes protest, but their voices can’t be heard
As the trumpets blare.
But in truth, they’ll soon be rubbing along,
As there’s duckweed-enough to share.

Sheep Music

Camping by a field of sheep
That baa throughout the night –
The farmer says each ewe must peep
To check her lamb’s alright.
One wonders if they ever sleep,
Or keep a state of fright ?
But we are hypnotised by sweeping
Bleats by Luna light.
Until the dawn brings cheap-cheap-cheap
That sound too fresh and bright –
At least the sheep were slow and deep
As they camped besides the site.

Untouchables

Ev’ryone hates vultures,
Those ugly hulking things –
Bald-headed, blood-stained,
With undertakers’ wings.

Ev’ryone hates vultures,
Circling overhead –
Never flapping, always patient,
Preying on the dead –

Ev’ryone hates vultures,
With necks so long and kinked –
And thanks to us, the good news is
They’ll soon become extinct.

Ev’ryone hates pathogens,
And keeps their quarters fresh.
But once we’ve killed the vultures,
Who’ll clean-up their rotting flesh…?