I’d say to myself I’ve written something of value to call it quits now seems the time
For too long I’ve put too much effort into penning of doggerel rhyme.
The beautiful song of the shrike thrush in the morning breeze comes to me
He whistles in the nearby Woodlet I know his song though him I can’t see
He cares not for fame or for success content in his own territory
His gift of song he’ll pass on to his offsprings to insure his immortality.
Around his borders in the breeding season he whistles and sings all day long
His greatest gift from Mother Nature the gift of a beautiful song
His song will live on in his children when from the Woodlet he has gone
If I could pen one worthy lyric my legacy too would live on.
If I could pen one worthy lyric I would gladly give rhyming away
But perhaps I will keep penning doggerel right up until my dying day
In hope of writing something of value that others may read and enjoy
Like the poems of the immortal poets that I read in school as a boy.