The Cuckoo Bird

There was a flower who knew an owl whose favorite place was the zoo

The owl’s friend, the cuckoo bird, was a covert bringer of news

She would drop the news in the monkeys’ pen at just the crack of dawn

And fly to lands far away, over the pandas and hippos and swans

The owl would come and perch itself on a sturdy branch of oak

To watch the monkeys hoot and holler and cast their dirty jokes

The frogs would hear and deem them shallow, what imbeciles, those senseless clowns

The frogs complain to the elephant’s ears, and soon after their trunks do sound

The lions rage, the trees shake, the zoo keepers become alarmed

Maybe they’re sick? Maybe they’re hungry? The keepers feed them farms

The monkeys feast, the pigs are greased, the zoo is once again sound

And again will come the cuckoo bird, covered in the darkness of dawn

And the owl will sit on its branch of oak and the flower will remain in the ground

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