Hal The Crow
Some twenty years ago there was a crow,
by Herbert Nehrlich
who'd fallen into our new compost bin.
He was near death by daybreak from the fumes
and danced quite drunkenly, when rescue came.
So full of tremours was he that we shook,
both he and I were dancing a slow Polka.
And I was talking with a softness in my voice
and said how sorry we all were that he fell in.
He understood at once and nodded wisely twice,
he had decided that he liked the atmosphere.
And so he stayed with us and often entertained.
He was our novelty and did enrich our lives.
We had a medium zoo, those days were back to nature.
Each animal required some attention.
Yet every morning Hal would get his grooming,
plus a few morsels, those were proof of our love.
And time passed by.
All real colours fade some,
through ravages of unknown fate and pre-selection.
And so it was that novelty turned grayish
and interest was diverted now and then.
The morsels also now came few and far between,
as other high priorities were rather urgent.
The grooming had to last now so much longer,
yet words of praise were lavished as before.
Then, one day Hal's friend Bert, the sparrow
flew in to notify him of a big delay.
The cart that carried food had broken down,
but would be fixed soon, so, please he should not worry.
A few days after, Hal had heard the happy laughter
of all the other creatures, colourful to boot,
he'd brushed the feathers of his scrawny frame with ivory leaves,
put on his travelling hat and flew the coop.
They called for him: Oh Hal, where aaaaare youuuuu?
Then there was silence.
And even Bert, the sparrow joined the other circus.