A poem about a crow

He sits atop his lofty spire

He grooms his fine jet-black attire

From there, on his castle proud and tall

He gazes upon his humble thralls

Most kingly crow! you stand so proud

We hear your royal bans so loud

The lesser birds, they bow before you

Underneath your rule, they respect and adore you

Your slender beak, your supple wing

Are the envy of ev’ry living thing

Who dares to take your life away?

The royal crow is here to stay!

Through freezing fog, you stand out clear

Through my window, your call I hear

Who else will hear this royal summons?

For whom is it intended?

Here she comes, your bride to be

From her own palatial tree

To join in holy matrimony

And rule the air benevolently

Away they soar, in graceful flight

To places far from human sight

But yes, they too must one day die

Our feathered friends who rule the sky.

– The Spideron, 1993


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