Heart Of The Matter

The Great Escape

My mother has a budgie,
He's pretty, white and blue,
She had to clean his cage out,
Oh my, what a to do!
You've guessed it,
Yes, the bird escaped,
He flew from floor to ceiling,
Kept flying at the windows,
Head spinning,
I was reeling,
And guess who had to catch him,
You've guessed right,
It was me,
I'm not much good,
With budgies,
Especially,
When they're free,
I tried to sneak up on him,
And catch him unaware,
But that sneaky little budgie,
He left feathers everywhere,
I felt quite sorry for him,
Head banging off the wall,
The poor thing looked,
Quite stupefied,
And terrified and all,
At last he settled,
On a lamp,
That sat upon a table,
I thought I'd have another go,
Whilst I was feeling able,
I slowly walked up to him,
Said, “what a lovely boy”,
I held my hand out to him,
And told him “don't be coy”,
He ran around the lampshade,
Too tired now to take flight,
I followed with my finger,
Now, do you see my plight?
Just when I thought,
That all was lost,
He hopped onto my thumb,
I walked him over,
To his cage,
And then the job,
Was done,

And all this while,
My Mother looked,
In honesty, nonplussed,
Whilst the pretty little budgie,
Looked decidedly,
Concussed.


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The Great Escape

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