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Birds
Chance killed the harping birds, not I. Although
I shoved the nest out of the eves, I frowned
When four specked eggs splashed dumbly on the ground.
But if my gutter's ever going to flow,
These knotted nests and sparrows have to go.
The twigs and grass that clog it must come down.
Sometimes I wish they wouldn't come around.
I've got a piece of eggshell on my toe.
It makes me sad to think they're broken but
They shouldn't build in gutters, doors or flues.
Hell, I didn't want this on my shoes.
They used the tree before I had it cut.
In back behind the garden by the hut,
I built a birdhouse that they never use.
Chance killed the harping birds, not I. Although
I shoved the nest out of the eves, I frowned
When four specked eggs splashed dumbly on the ground.
But if my gutter's ever going to flow,
These knotted nests and sparrows have to go.
The twigs and grass that clog it must come down.
Sometimes I wish they wouldn't come around.
I've got a piece of eggshell on my toe.
It makes me sad to think they're broken but
They shouldn't build in gutters, doors or flues.
Hell, I didn't want this on my shoes.
They used the tree before I had it cut.
In back behind the garden by the hut,
I built a birdhouse that they never use.
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