It’s the blue jay laughing at us.
It’s the blue jay jeering at us, Bibs.
Every day since the snow is here
The blue jay paces round the cabin, very busy, picking up bits,
Turning his back on us all,
And bobbing his thick dark crest about the snow, as if darkly saying:
I ignore those folk who look out.
You acid-blue metallic bird,
You thick bird with a strong crest
Who are you?
Whose boss are you, with all your bully way?
You copper-sulphate blue-bird!
Lobo.
ANIMALS
THE ASS
The long-drawn bray of the ass
In the Sicilian twilight—
All mares are dead!
All mares are dead!
Oh-h!
Oh-h-h!
Oh-h-h-h-h—h!!
I can’t bear it, I can’t bear it,
I can’t!
Oh, I can’t!
Oh—
There’s one left!
There’s one left!
One!
There’s one ... left....
So ending on a grunt of agonised relief.