The Starlings

And as you will
Be wanton’ to kill
Absorbing the thrill
As a starling stood still
A gun to the dill
And fire at will
With a shanghais to help
And my Brother Phil
A hat in the air
Cos you hit him fair
For that bird I don’t care
They’re anything but rare
And as game very fair
Feathers in the air
And you winged a pair
A noisy lot
All Dads’ fruit they got
And my barrel is hot
You’ll beat me not
Starlings you’ll rot
So it’s goodbye at last
As I let off a blast
From a shotgun so fast
And now you’re cast
From atop the mast
No more starlings
Thank God
A thing of the past