Flock of Christophers

I came across the flock of Christophers, In the late of the night next to the reeds, By the gentle murmur of the river, Oh how I marveled at their ***** ways, Lolloping and gawking about, Furtively side stepping this way and that, Their heads and chins were pointing in odd directions, Like flamingos or hot footed lizards, Their hands on their hips, Leaping and kicking from side to side. What a strange moonlit dance They performed out under the African sky.