Poem By John Shea
An English Sparrow flew in my kitchen,
A female because I know my birds.
She looked at me and said where are my treats.
I said the health inspector was here.
Go catch a fly and be indescreet
I heard you'll draw rats
with your dirty little feet.
Ijust gave you crumbs
from the fresh bread they baked,
You have one more year so go catch a bug
I know it's not as good,
As the killer food we make, here in the hood.