MOCKING BIRDS

 

Every third chorus that you sing


Comes out discordant squawk
 
 

Not liquid, like your early strains,

 

But more like bar-room talk.

 

It sounds like human mockery

 

Like low scale honky-tonk

 

All rancid with debauchery,

 

A river roiled and wrong.

 

Why not pick out sweet notes to sing,

 

Oh mimic of mankind?

 

In a world so rank with harsh mocking,

 

What do we need with thine?*

 

Some birds, (poultraicly correct),

 

Mock on from night to morn;

 

Their foul derision splats the deck

 

With never-ending scorn.

 

Seek not their perch from which to wail

 

Invoking Heaven’s curse,

 

Instead, go mock the nightingale;

 

Why praise the fowler’s hearse?

 

 

*don't be critical, I know 'thine' in archaic and also too
small, I just felt like saying it and needed a rhyme
 

 

G. Pinkney 2/ 4/ 03

 

Copyright 2006 Gene Pinkney
No quotes may be used without attribution