PIGEON BLUES
Pity us poor pigeons, please,
forced to perch on roofs and trees
for the statues that we sat on
have been overturned and spat on.
All those worthies of the ages
have now been encased in cages
lest the mobs, now judge and jury,
desecrate them in their fury.
Statues are a pigeon’s toilet:
put one up, we’re sure to soil it
with a coat of guano splatter.
Bring them back, don’t pigeons matter?
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