The Crows had a meeting
on the wires this morning.

Their collective cawing was
remnant of Westminster.

Corbyn [Old French] Corbeau,
was getting it in the ear.

Bercrow, as per usual, in
the centre, eying the right.

May, the crow, never picks
their stack, but regardless,

She was about to go and
pluck someone.

Things were beginning to
look blacker and bleaker.

The Rooster Crowed, not
your call, she said,

Shut the **** up MaCrown,
crow'king's what frogs do best.

Crow'n quarto intervened,
just before dawn chorus.

Crow'd fondling #MeToo
Union Jack-Daw is guilty.

Off with his wings, to the
Bowery!

And away they all went,
back to their Crookery.