“Oh Poor Me”
~
I’m a poor tree,
And I have a problem, you see.
The birds – the naughty birds –
They get me so mad, but I won’t use swear words.
~
They peck at me, until I bleed,
And I was once cared for as a tiny little seed.
As I grew older, I became beautiful and proud…
Then those darn birds arrived, noisy and loud.
~
With their darn pecking – more pecking –
I’d shout, “What the heck! Would you stop your pecking!”
Year after year, the same old thing,
Then came children who added a little swing.
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Noise everywhere, between children and birds,
Oh, I would love to say many different swear words.
But I must behave; I’m an elder tree…
Who yesterday was diagnosed with cancer, you see.
~
My life will soon be cut short – I just know.
Then the birds and children will have to go.
I’ll be gone, so no more noise or a single peck…
Maybe then I’ll be someone’s brand-new deck.
~
So enjoy, little birds – peck away.
Pretty soon it’ll be your last day.
Peace and quiet will reign once more,
And I may be lying in a lumber store.
~
Ta, ta!


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