The Tweetamol

The Tweetamol as you will see Is strange beyond deformity. You’ll gasp, then gape and then declare, ‘I’ve never seen a bird with hair! A hairy bird- what’s that about?’ You’ll hear yourself begin to shout. And if you’re lucky you might see It do something extraordinary- But this may give you quite a shudder To see it start to milk its udder. (It does this every other day Then posts it to the milky- way). The thing about this crazy bird The thing I find is most absurd, Is that it does from time to time Pretend to be a porcupine. Now porcupines, and I think I’m right Have quills and come out late at night, Whereas this barmy batty beast When it comes out to have a feast- Dons lilies from the lily pond And brandishes a wizard’s wand, And then, in words I cannot utter Gobbles jars of peanut butter. It does this till it’s had a few Then swims off in the ocean blue. To which it sings a lullaby To whales and roes and flutterbies. Another thing about this bird Is that it doesn’t say a word. That’s not because it cannot speak- Or that it hasn’t got a beak; The beak it’s got is well applied And opens up from side to side. Instead, as best as it is able It likes to write thing on a table, Then charge a pound (which I think is fair) To see what it has written there. But if it thinks you’re being stroppy It will refuse to give a copy. And so, before you ask advice Do try and be a little nice.