the doldrums of dawn
the bees are sawing the morning,
as the flowers flute come on;
then the sparrows tutt and tit tit it,
but the great-tits have flit and gorn;
and the cat? well she’s stalking the breeze,
that clacks the crows to clack back, "black-cat"
the wood pigeon (l’m a big bird don’t you know)
soothes "who wants a second cup of tea?"
"me! and how perfectly purrfect" mews the cat,
and so - hi oh - another morning moment,
goes yawning down the fair dews of dawn.