The Congregation of the Warblers
From left to right, the pigeon troop,
In soft array, include these names,
The leftmost bird, I overheard,
Is titled Percy Puffcoat James,
And next along, with cooing song,
And darkest of the motley flock,
A bird who loves the Star Trek show,
The gel haired warbler, Dr. Spock,
Then Mrs. Spots, arrayed with dots,
Her back embossed with dark ink blots,
A gossip and a nervous wreck,
Who curbs her angst by drinking shots,
And next to her, asleep in bed,
His head below his cloaking wing,
The apathetic Mr. Gloom,
Who will not, can not, does not sing,
And right of him, in glossy white,
A bird who poops when in mid flight,
The firey tempered Mr. Bomb,
Who’ll spoil your car by shades of night,
And Princess Prue Pavlova next,
A bird with quite an appetite,
Who gorges bags of lamingtons,
Below the flashing traffic light,
Then Harold Birch, with cloaking fur,
A bird distinctly upper class,
With private birdy bidet suite,
To cleanse his stately birdy arse,
And sitting upright under sun,
The yoga loving bird, Estelle,
Who’s mastered downward facing bird,
Performed with meditation bell,
Her neighbour next, Sir Hugo Glamp,
Who gambles at the gamblers camp,
On rooftop number sixty two,
With panoramic city view,
Tina Turtledove is next,
Who loves the pumping disco beat,
And bobs along to disco song,
When walking down the city street,
The beggar Barney Booze is next,
A vagabond with liquor vexed,
A happy drunk who sings off-key,
Which leaves the suburb sore perplexed,
Paddington the bird not bear,
Is next with flaming Tintin hair,
Which rises like a little fire,
A coiffure combed with stylish flair,
And leading all the birds up top,
The preacher bird, Rev. Dingus Dwight,
Who preachers Revelation text,
From up above the traffic light!
AD Lovkis, 20/06/25
adamdaniel 