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Whenever I’m able I raid the bird table
I snap up some mealworms and go
The nearby house owner a bad tempered moaner
Berates me because I’m a crow

That snotty Rob Robin just sits there bob bobbing 
And snaffles as much as he can
He’d better stop soon he’s the size of the moon
But this doesn't bother the man

Those flashy goldfinches are only five inches
But make a cacophonous sound
Like lambs to the slaughter they come down for water 
But I’ve called the sparrow-hawk round

But hey what’s point of a crow having brains 
If not to get ill gotten gains 
Raiding that fella’s bird table is fun
Caw blimey... he’s got a big gun!



24 May 2021
Contest: Personification poem 150
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger

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