The Slumming birds

F.J.'s brain | 4-21-02 | F.J. Mitchell

[F.J. Mitchell]

The Slumming birds

My slumming birds are back,
around this single wide trailer house shack.
Sugar water, not nectar, is favored by them,
when fermented with ants that died for a swim.

Slumming birds are drawn to the home's of rednecks,
and fight over feeders the redneck neglects,
then fly off half lit and run into trees,
sinking their peckers, plumb up to their knees!

A slumming bird's nest is one sloppy mess,
built like their instincts were programmed to guess-
guess where to build and guess how it's done,
and guess what's the reason to even build one.

Slumming birds never hum they just croon,
except mating season, when they howl at the moon.
The hounds of the rednecks oft answer their tune;
flying pups from such matings are the bane of the coon.

Let humming birds hum all around,
those estates where the homes are built sound,
drinking pure nectar from feeders so clean,
where slumming birds are proud, to never be seen.

Birds of a feather, flock together tis' said,
and the lowly amuse the high bred,
though the high bred waste their youth and their prime,
in pursuit of the fruit, the lowly had all the time.

So buy yourself a trailer and buy some cheap land,
where politicians allow you to spend, what your budget can stand,
then vote out the bastards who's nightmarish schemes,
are making impossible, the American dreams.

I love slumming birds, and humming birds too,
birds only do what bird brains will do.
You and I, can't hover or fly,
but we can recognize a damn lie!

Can't we?

[F.J. Mitchell]

Read, or else!!!!!