Four birds sit in a tree,
each uttering its own song,
caws and thrills joint in harmony,
as they exchange arias all night long.

And such a sight you never did see,
for these four birds of such difference,
surely hadn't gathered naturally,
to sing with each other with such indiference;

.....................................................................


First on the right do spot the crow;
there, raising one black, sharp nailed claw,
a herald of Death as many of you know,
but wait let's listen to the song of his caw;

The crow sings in a bass so rich and so deep,
Just like the thoughts he tries to express;
the darkness of the world that we try hard to keep
out of our heads and our lives, that we try to supress,

So, though he sings about Life, they say it is Death
but he sings it still, so loud and witsthanding,
and he is likely to do so till he runs out of breath
for the crow sings of grave misunderstanding.


Now look to his right, and you will see,
a greater lyrebird raising his head,
neither a pheasant, nor a parrot, nor an owl is he,
but something that is a bit of all three birds instead,

which forms the main essence of the lyrebird's song,
which he sings in an alto that is most unheard,
for though it's not powerful, though it's not long,
with it he can imitate any kind of bird;

But shun him not though he sings of deception,
Because he can teach you a lesson so crucial ;
in the need sometimes for the alteration of perception,
for the lyrebird sings of survival.


Next do spot the beautiful canary
ruffling her feathers the colour of sun.
A small bird yet so jovial and delightfully merry,
calling out to all who know her song; "HUM!"

The glorious soprano of the canary's song
reminds us of things forgetten in regret;
of seven-dwarves and glass slippers - too long
have dissappeared into dust in the time that we fret.

And so open your ears to her heart-warming thrills,
and forget just for awhile, your skepticism in life
to appreciate beauty and joy - despite all the bills! -
for the canary sings of joy in the midst of strife.


And last on the far left we come to the lovebird,
belting out a tenor so sharp and so loud
that for miles and miles away he is heard;
always trying to stand out in a crowd.

The song of the lovebird; though not especially sweet,
is indistinguishable in its cry for attention
Yet, his colourful feathers, ruffled, anything but neat!
speak of a time of great tribulation.

Though we try to be unique, or something of such intent,
we often still wish to belong, to be given a chance.
And the lovebird looked to the other birds and was content ;
For the lovebird sings of; unconditional acceptance.

.....................................................................

Four birds sit in a tree,
each uttering its own song,
caws and thrills joint in harmony,
as they exchange arias all night long.

(Thanks for singing with me on the tree. Here's to a great New Year peeps!)

PEACE OUT