Five Crows

Five Crows

Five crows

in a row

about something or other;

one said he was flighty-

he was talking about his brother;

another said the quickest way form A to C

is the way I fly it,

avoiding that place called B;

a third grumbled at the lines upon her face,

‘Oh, why are they called Crow’s Feet? I look a right disgrace!”

The fourth and fifth crows,

we’re nit-picking about picking-nits,

“It’s okay for you, you only have two;

me, I have a hundred and three!’

said one.

‘Well, that’s nothing to crow about.’

said the other.

And on it went.

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