The greyhair bird; small but proud,
bloweth her trumpet against a young crowd
'I am a winner, have no fear' she says,
little lads listen to her bearin' an awe face!
'Tell us, tell us; O great lady,
why dos't thou not fear? ' chirped a birdie
'Tale us, amuse us, inspire us, lighten us'
Elated and gay, the bird speaketh thus:
'Whilst I was as you, young and strong,
a villainous snake feet 'n feet long,
(furious and deathly; cruel and queer ;)
did bring hell and fire O hear!
Ha! I pounced upon him; pluck'd his eye!
('Oye, dids't thou hear? Aye aye; Aye aye! ')
Ere long his hiss never did sound,
Oh! I'd sense him had he been around.'
Suddenly, rose behind a hood; dark and blind;
A long-lost foe sure did he find!
The scared scattered mourned in synchrony:
'Alas, isn't that a sad irony? '
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Comments about this poem (Irony by Avismara Hugoppalu )
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