Now, tell me true, dear miserly magpie

As you nest in the oak's dying branches,

Treasured horde glinting in your ebon eyes

Do your metal coins erase the sadness

And memories locked away, buried deep

Below a strict and coarse exterior

'Neeth glossy black feathers and sharp tongued beak?

Hailing slapdash songbirds inferior

'Cause you are adding, counting benefits

Of myriad shining coins and bauble

Sneering down at songbirds like they are zits

Loafing idly, laughing by the cobbles

I wonder: while you glare in your nestled gloom

If the magpie longs to laugh with them too.