Snerd the Bird
They call him Snerd,
Snerd the bird,
But he’s not as absurd
As Lerd the third.
Now that’s a bird,
Whose squawks are blurred
With fanciful words
That I’ve never heard.
Now I overheard,
Lerd the third,
Say our friend Snerd,
Is actually furred;
Like from a herd,
That’s not of birds,
Of which wrong stirred
Our lovable Snerd.
So perturbed Snerd
Was then referred,
To, Rare Bird
Who lives undeterred
In the cliff’s of Hurd.
Then to our friend, Snerd,
Rare Bird conferred
These few good words.
“Friends are preferred,
So don’t be spurred
By Lerd the third.
He’ll be transferred
With other cur’ds
On Monday the third.”
Said, Rare Bird of Hurd,
Word for word.
So our friend, Snerd
Dispatched these words
To Lerd the third.
“Your curse words
Will not be endured!
I’ve since matured,
And have secured
The truth from Rare Bird.”
What then occurred
Is Lerd the third,
Was left unsecured
With his own herd
Of the absurd.
And we’ve been assured
He’ll soon be interred
Unless he gets cured.
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