To A Hedge Sparrow
Your call noteís like a squeaky wheel
While sparrow in your nameís not real
And, striking up in early spring,
Small haysuck, dunnock, shufflewing,
Or modularis or Prunella
Some say your song is hardly stellar,
Just rapid, tinkling, thin, and flat.
But others donít agree with that
And hear a warble, rather sweet,
Like tiddle iddle lu wi lu weet.
So, carry on your search for grubs
Low down among my garden shrubs.
If you have any thoughts about this poem, Jerome Betts would be
pleased to hear them