Starling
There is a bird called Starling
A pooping little pest he is
He will dive bomb your car
And leave a deposit
Whether you like it or not
I saw him flying straight for my car
And as he went out of sight
I saw him high fiveing his friends
This doesn’t rhyme and I don’t care
I would like to write another verse
Here lies Starling
He pooped his best
He pooped his last
Rest in Peace
He pooped his best
He pooped his last
Rest in Peace
4 comments:
nice poem Grandma! Apparently you had a bad dun in with a starling...
I hate the crows they sit on our light pole and make a mess of my car. So I decided to shoot one with Jim's high powered air soft gun I hit it about 6 times before it finally decided to move.
Pooping birds used to annoy me, too. Now I slow down so that the clean-up-crows can get out of the road.
Ahhhh, seems poor starling should have reconsidered that last dive bombing mission, huh?! Nice poem, Grandma! Have a great week!
Many hugs...........
Diane
Post a Comment