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.