A poet once picked up a pen,
as his custom for ages had been.
But he sat on a bird,
and his screams could be heard
over country and valley and glen.
So, he picked that poor bird up and shook it,
'til its neck was considerably crooked.
Then he threw it quite far
and went out to a bar
and got himself good and 'forsnookered.'
And there on a napkin he wrote
a rare and most beautiful note.
Clear over the fold
the story he told
of the bird he had grabbed by the throat.
It told a sad tale of remorse;
how he grieved he had used so much force;
how he wished he could mend
his new feathery friend
and help him resume his winged course.
T'was the next day, just after sunrise,
he looked up and through blood-shot eyes
saw the bird on his sill!
And they're best of friends still!
Seems the bird had not met his demise.
And oft from his flight through the air
his friend would come visit him there
and with no condemnation
brought him great inspiration,
but never again from his chair!\n\nScott Loring
https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poet-a-pen-and-a-bird-in-the-form-of-a-limerick/
as his custom for ages had been.
But he sat on a bird,
and his screams could be heard
over country and valley and glen.
So, he picked that poor bird up and shook it,
'til its neck was considerably crooked.
Then he threw it quite far
and went out to a bar
and got himself good and 'forsnookered.'
And there on a napkin he wrote
a rare and most beautiful note.
Clear over the fold
the story he told
of the bird he had grabbed by the throat.
It told a sad tale of remorse;
how he grieved he had used so much force;
how he wished he could mend
his new feathery friend
and help him resume his winged course.
T'was the next day, just after sunrise,
he looked up and through blood-shot eyes
saw the bird on his sill!
And they're best of friends still!
Seems the bird had not met his demise.
And oft from his flight through the air
his friend would come visit him there
and with no condemnation
brought him great inspiration,
but never again from his chair!\n\nScott Loring
https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poet-a-pen-and-a-bird-in-the-form-of-a-limerick/
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MusicTranscript
00:00A poet once picked up a pen.
00:02As his custom for ages had been.
00:05But he sat on a bird.
00:07And his screams could be heard.
00:09Over country and valley and glen.
00:11So, he picked that poor bird up and shook it.
00:15Till its neck was considerably crooked.
00:18Then he threw it quite far.
00:20And went out to a bar.
00:22And got himself good and furs nookered.
00:25And there on a napkin he wrote.
00:28A rare and most beautiful note.
00:30Clear over the fold.
00:32The story he told.
00:34Of the bird he had grabbed by the throat.
00:37It told a sad tale of remorse.
00:39How he grieved he had used so much force.
00:43How he wished he could mend.
00:45His new feathery friend.
00:47And help him resume his winged course.
00:50T was the next day, just after sunrise.
00:53He looked up and through bloodshot eyes.
00:56Saw the bird on his sill.
00:58And their best of friends still.
01:01Seems the bird had not met his demise.
01:04And offed from his flight through the air.
01:06His friend would come visit him there.
01:09And with no condemnation.
01:11Brought him great inspiration.
01:13But never again from his chair.