Birds of a feather,
Not unlike me,
Love fine weather
(When it’s pouring tea).
Manners, wine and dining, too.
Mantis, llama, kangaroo.

Overmade, they do make over.
Things so brittle like the rover
Sent to Mars, the Milky Way,
Bounty, sneaky in its way.

Inbetwixt the words they utter,
They choose bread over the butter.
Frying French and grilling Jerry,
Jamming jars of juicy berry.

Duty-bound, they bound off duty.
Flock together! Fly, my beauties!
Plumes all owned. And not one borrowed.
Standing still amidst the horror…

Jokes aside, and folly ousted,
Peace preferred to putrid bloodshed,
They, like me, are hard to find…
Seems, at last, I’ve lost my mind!