Robin Red

Robin Red’s gotten bread,

Stolen from Old Tom's Farm

Bang, gunshot! Clang, mis-shot!

Sang Old Tom’s firearm

“Watch it there! Half-wit spare!”

Robin Red yelled at me

“Not me sir, cease thee slur”

As Robin Red perched on a tree

“Still sir, why? Steal and fly?”

I said with pious vigor

“You can’t take what Tom makes

Old Tom will pull the trigger”

“Bread’s fair game” Red exclaimed

Enjoying the ill-gotten catch

“Old Toms slow, dive-bomb, Go!

His bread’s easy to snatch.

Bourgeoisie, he can’t stop me!”

Said Red, laughing at my frown.

One huge bite, while upright

Red guzzled the bread straight down.

Fat, slow and full of dough

Red cackled: “Old Tom can’t stop my fun!”

BANG! Wing-spread, Red dropped dead

He was too big to dodge my gun.

Don’t be sad, Red was bad.

Only take what you ought 'teh

No one leaves, watch out thieves

Because I am Old Tom’s daughter