This Himalayan monal bird
Has her feathers ruffled a bit,
And feels the need to chirp a word
About the unfairness of it.
The he bird has a showy wear,
Enticing her with strutting stuff.
Then he flies off without a care,
And she is stuck with all the tough.
It's up to her to build the nest,
And beak for food for more than one,
And fight off any lurking pest.
A momma's work is never done.
Himalayan the eggs - no way!
Heralayan the eggs - okay!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem