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.