You may go with daffs, follow a date,
the twentieth or the twenty-first,
today's the first of spring for me,
when local blackbirds choose to relate
their practiced oeuvres through the day -
beyond dusk-triggers, now, their burst.
It's no coincidence, of course,
that all the birds've got twitter-bill,
and jet planes seem to crowd the air,
helicopters brutalize across,
toddlers shriek, dogs bark, sirens blare.
I glower within it all, feel ill.
Only one concert I attend
and yet can hardly hear a phrase.
Oh! Doh! Ray me in la, so far,*
until my temper you might mend,
though I drown in oceans of car,
and fart-bikes rend me in the waves.
Seems everything feels spring - but one -
I, jugful of irritation, pout
The ice-cream Greensleeves* deep offends;
now pigeons lecture monotone.
This noise will drive me round the bend,
to stand upon my table, shout:
"Just bugger off, you rusty springs
and let me hear a blackbird's song!"
Second-class twits of birds no bards,
bikes, cars, trucks, pigs, medics ringing
in ears with planes and whirlybirds,
grin as they cacophony along.
.......................
*'Do ray me, la so fa' was one phrase I managed to hear.
*The ice-cream van here plays 'Greensleeves', the tune.
*'Pigs' refers to police cars, 'medics' to ambulances.
