It’s not how you look at seagulls,
It’s how they look at you
They eye you up and down
as you walk past
in their quaint old seaside town.
They quantify and justify
the food that you may hold;
and then they make their strike plan –
would that we should be so bold.
They carry out attacks
to gain their food of choice,
we stand there stunned,
bereft of lunch,
and then we hear their voice:
“Pob-a-Bob!” or “Bob-Pob!”
or some such likened yell;
a laugh they have that mocks us,
but, at least we have a tale to tell.