The crows beak was long
enough to peck the silver
top of the milk bottles when
we were young in Ireland.

To a depth of the cream,
then, they'd turn their heads
side ways, look down to see
why the taste had changed.

About that time of morning,
first bakes of the day would
be out on the window sills,
'till cool enough to be cut.

Before being caught, they
would have all the raisins
plucked from the crusts, as
we went to fetch the milk!