Kiwi Konexions: Expendable
Glen Taylor foresees a bleak future for a feathered friend.
I see you hopping by the drains
Extracting worms and what remains
I know your nest is in that tree
Just there, at the back of me.
Every year I see you here
That bit of white behind your ear
Bringing up another brood
Filling up their mouths with food.
Each day you are at it
Gathering this and that
To stuff in their ungrateful beaks
Answering their demanding tweets
Hate to tell you your real use
You fell for preservation's ruse
Those fluffy balls and pleading eyes
Are to ensure the race survives.
So when you’re old, past use-by date
Sorry mate it’s far too late
While sitting on some farmyard gate
A prowling cat will seal your fate.
