The Owl

What a mate is that owl
Who perched on a tree branch
Reflected with a soft howl
Staring through the window arch
While we're fixated on our dinner bowl

The owl is celebrated as a symbol of wisdom
It's got huge eyes like balls or saucepans
I learnt while munching on a spicy poppadom
But where I come from 's dreaded by Grans
For they say its singing spells unleashed doom
Still its foul tone attracts a handful of fans


It seems the Grans were right as always
For the owl did announce storms and hail
Although some did not get its crafty ways
Of disappearing just before strikes the gale
They moan and moan oh why did the owl phase
Out its singing without goodbye or wail

But I know that the owl will be back
When there's further bad news to announce
I wish somebody would keep track
Of its appearances 'n' be ready to bounce
On that stupid bird with a flour sack
To teach it a lesson on how to pronounce
Some good news for once instead of their lack
That's why I don't trust it, never did, an ounce
Bring some good news ya bastard, will ya 'eck