Steve Seagull
High atop our chimney breast,
Lives Steve Seagull upon his nest.
He’s a highly trained, bombing master,
Atop my rooftop, his name spells disaster.
If you’re like me, and live down by the sea,
You’d better hide quick, and find the nearest tree.
He thinks the seaside sky’s his domain,
And his mission is to cause both misery and pain.
Steve seagull, he dominates his space,
As you take leave of your house, of your place.
He swoops down low, he targets your head,
And ‘bombs away’ he just misses you instead.
That was his warning shot, next time you won’t be so lucky,
Next time will hit you, and you’ll be feeling all mucky.
You’ll have to return home, and you’ll then need a shower,
And Steve Seagull triumphantly returns atop of his tower.
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