A whiff,
The wind changes
Something's in the air
The nose knows
It's the smell of
Defeat
(or is it the feet)
Chicken hawks know
Preying on the weak
Is fair game
But, keep an eye open
For there are bigger
Predators about.
Will he learn
From the rhyme;
Apple Core
Baltimore
Who's your friend
(It's the end)
Not for shore (sure)
Not no more.
And they'll chuck the core at him
Who really has no friends.
s
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem