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A NASTY BUGGER BE

We had this parrot once,
A real nasty piece of works,
A cunning sort of a bugger,
Who went by the handle of “Jock,”
There was only one in the family 
who could pat or even get up close,
Or even give him a scratch,
For it was our dad of the kin
Who could even get to cuddle him,
But lo and behold
If a McKenzie kid DID something mean and nasty!
Towards our yellow sulphur crested friend,
He would scream and shout “Bugger Orff” regardless,
And nip at a finger whenever he got the chance,
Till it came to be one day,
That we kids of the tribe
Had had a gutful 
of this mimicking feathered friend,
So, we took it in our hands
And upon us,
To do something rather drastic
Like leaving the cocky cage door ajar,
With just enough room for Jock,
To bugger orff and escape the clutches
Of his lifelong coop of capture,
And on that fateful day of getaway
Jock was up and about a flapping wing,
Feeling quite invigorated to be free
And off into blue yonder flew,
Only far as across the road from home
To get acquainted with their cocky there,
And didn’t these cockies have a ball
Getting up to what cockies with freedom do,
And when Jock had had enough
Meandering back home at a crawl,
Till a day in the Cockie calendar
Our Jock had had laid three eggs,
And now to be known forever as “Jokette.”
And as I look back in reminiscence
Of a childhood full of memories,
Some things do stand out forever
Like when Jock was a girl not a boy
And a nasty bugger be…..

Francis Cooper – Mac © 2018

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