I’m becoming a seagull,
one that sees dogs,
or a dog,
or no dogs at all.
I’m becoming a seagull,
with a yearning for chips,
and an inordinate desire
to follow certain ships.
I’m becoming a pest,
pinching pasties at will,
and pestering people
and all for the thrill.
I’m becoming a seagull
I live by the coast
and in the morning at breakfast
it’s leftovers on toast.
I’m becoming a seagull,
with wings tried and true,
I lift off of the ground
and soar into the blue.
—//—
.
‘ “Pob-bob-bob!” I said’
.
“Pob-bob-Bob!” I said.
“Yes.” the seagull replied, but it should be ‘Pob-bob-bob-bob!’ as they have ‘two’ dogs.
“Pob-bob-bob-bob!” I said,
correcting the error.
“Precisely!” said the seagull, ‘“You’ll probably get it right next time.”
“Pobbbbbb!” I said, which I soon found out, really wasn’t a very nice thing to say at all.
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