To A Hedge Sparrow



Your call note’s like a squeaky wheel
While sparrow in your name’s not real
And, striking up in early spring,
Small haysuck, dunnock, shufflewing,
Or modularis or Prunella
Some say your song is hardly stellar,
Just rapid, tinkling, thin, and flat.
But others don’t agree with that
And hear a warble, rather sweet,
Like tiddle iddle lu wi lu weet.
So, carry on your search for grubs
Low down among my garden shrubs.
 
Jerome Betts

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Jerome Betts  would be pleased to hear them