ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

THE SONG OF THE CROW


The crow is not a cheerful fowl
With mates, he makes a murder.
How he flies in strict straight line
Is taken as a measure.

Just basic black adorns his back
While glows his evil eye,
And like a languid ragged ghoul
He lopes across the sky;

ARK ARK
OEK
ark
OOOOOOOOOOooooooo

Aaark indeed, Neville!

And yet the legend says that if the ravens disappear from the Tower of London, the British Empire will crumble.

So they keep tame ones there, just in case!

Well don't say it too loud Shelley but the British Empire has already crumbled.

I like crows, I guess they are a bit like me, often left to do the dirty work that no-one else wants to do......oh yeah, and they are smart...