Pigeon pie

Pigeon pie 

By Rob Kingston

Shock waves in the wind
The Robin is to be crowned Great Britain’s king

Not an Owl, not an Eagle or a Black bird
Not a Wren, a Jay, Cuckoo, warbler or Tit
Not a Starling, a Swift, Lark, Magpie or Martin
None of these will be featured to sing.

Not a Sparrow hawk, a Kestrel, Kite or Kingfisher
Cormorant, Coot, Curlew or Crane
A Goose, the Duck or even a Swan
None are the favourite, chosen for fame

For it is the Little Robin red breast they say is the best
That is to be elevated upon Great Britain’s crest
Its vibrancy in song and coat
Are two reasons as to why upon the crest it will float

I question the reasons, I question them all
For I see a more favoured breast to the crest be called
Mount up the pigeon upon this crest
For I see it is he who has answered this nation the best

From carrying messages both wide and far,
Seeing the terror and its many scars
For being there to answer to the nation in difficult times
Providing staples that get rinsed down with wine

A feature upon many land mark town halls
To flocking to the bird lady’s call at St Paul's
Children hand feeding in Trafalgar square
Feverishly flapping as the clangers come to bell bare

Featuring in films throughout time
Showing our London as a place uniquely sublime
Up and down the land
The mighty pigeon can be found

So to those residing in a lofty place
Please reconsider to which bird deserves this grace
If it’s on glory be
Then surely it should be the pigeon that deserves being seen

© Robert Kingston     29.12.15