Do You Like Pigeons Dad

‘Do you like Pigeons Dad’ “Oh No” ‘But Why?’ “They’re scummy things They’re Rats with wings They’re vermin of the sky” ‘That can’t be right Dad’ “It is” ‘How So?’ “They pilfer seed They breed at speed And harbour disease you know” ‘Are you sure dad’ “Oh Yes” ‘Since when?’ “Since the Rock Pigeon flew And ended up in a stew Since their domestication by men” ‘But I like Pigeons Dad’ “I know You do” ‘I like how they sing I like the shape of their wing So you should like them too’ “But I don’t like Pigeons Son. Not now. Not ever. Their walk is bizarre, They crap on my car And they’re really not that clever” 'But Daaaad… ...they wake me in the morning, With their delightful coo, Their plumage is wonderful - an iridescent blue. They look good in the garden Dad They don’t make such a mess Do you like Pigeons Dad?’ …“Yes” [This poem was the result of being asked this question many, many, many times by my son. My son is on the autistic spectrum - he has Asperger's Syndrome to give the official diagnosis. He is a lovely human being & I love him dearly. But one of his most irritating traits, is the fact that he asks the same questions continuously all day every day. No matter how you respond, the same question will be posed minutes later. Currently and for at least the last 2 to 3 years: 'Do you like pigeons daddy?' is his favourite/most frequently asked question. Now that you know that, perhaps you can really feel the exasperation in that final ..."Yes"]