Winter Weary Treat

Robin, robin,

Burning bright,

Roasting slowly,

Through the night,

A hearty meal,

You will make,

As over the hearth,

You slowly bake,

On the spit,

You slowly burn,

A tender morsel,

Done to a turn,

Though this late Spring,

Proved your demise,

You will be tasty,

Tis no surprise,

Juicy and tender,

You make my mouth water,

To taste that first bite,

Next Spring, its your daughter,

Though an early Spring,

Might have spared your life,

This cold, wintry weather,

Could not save your wife,

Where is your mate?

Well, here's a clue,

She made a savory,

Robin stew,

Perfectly seasoned,

With a spot of tea,

Will we have have robin again tomorrow?

We really must wait and see,

Please, take no mind,

If I take out my aggressions,

As this wintry weather,

Leaves cold lasting impressions,

Perhaps next Springtime,

You might live and learn,

That my tastes might change,

As it has taken to tern,

Or dear Robin,

For a special thrill,

I might take a liking,

To Whippoorwill,

So, dear Robin,

Your friends, need not fear,

But, if next Springtime arrives too late,

My slingshot will be near!

(c) BAM