A tiny tawny torso
With tiny tawny eyes.
In tiny tawny cautious flows
The tiny tawny flies.

A tiny tawny heartbeat
With tiny tawny pace;
A tiny tawny look upon
A tiny tawny face.

Tiny tawny feathers
Of tiny tawny brown.
Tiny tawny eyebrows make
A tiny tawny frown.

A tiny tawny tinted breast
So tiny tawny cute.
A tiny tawny voice to call
A tiny tawny hoot

Two tiny tawny wingtips
For tiny tawny flight
The tiny tender tawny owl
Takes off into the night.

                            ASJ

If grandad really loved me...
(he told me so, he said)
He recited scary stories
As I lay in my bed.

He lit the fire that warmed me
And kept it burning bright,
He gave me cheer throughout the day
And comfort through the night.

He shared my weekend tea with me,
We two a jolly team;
Pouring out the ginger beer
And serving cakes and cream.

His cleverness he lent to me
And showed me what to do
He taught me how to spell my name
Keep my own council too.

But granddad never told me,
And I could ne'er perceive;
If grandad really loved me so
Why, then, did he leave?

                              ASJ

Oh, to be maying this cool sun-snapped day,
Temperately faultless and fair.
Oh, to be roaming, this rare day in May ~
Oh, how I wish you were there.

Oh, to be with you as spring bids its bye
And as summer is saluted, yet still...
Oh, you were with me as often I try
To think of you out on the hill.

I remember you with me, faithful and true,
Oh you, how loyal and sound;
Alert when I whistled and ever I knew
Oh you, a prince of a hound.

Oh, to be maying as memories awaken ~
But do I feel rain in the sky?
Not so, this May day, I must be mistaken;
Oh, 'tis the tear in my eye.

ASJ

Satan visits often,
He arrives at dead of night;
He counsels me
Where I should be,
He exhorts with all his might.

Satan visits often,
I find him in the dark;
Tine figured head,
Eyes fiery red,
A prong to make his mark.

Satan visits often,
Ghostly in his cloak;
My troth to break,
My soul to take,
My very faith to choke.

Satan visits often,
Expounding where I'm wrong;
He has his say
Till break of day,
He attests where I belong.

Satan visits often,
Bearing bread and wine;
I may not know
Which way I'll go...
Mayhaps with him I'll dine.

ASJ

I weep for trees and forests,
We laid them all to waste.
Will children have no air to breath,
No atmosphere to taste?

I weep for mighty oceans
We trashed them to the brim.
Will children of the life therein
Protract no place to swim?

I weep for northern icelands,
A thawing polar crown.
Will children of the Inuit
Become condemned to drown?

I weep for fields and meadows,
Poisoned long ago.
Will children of the landscape
Reap no seeds to sow?

I weep for man's futurity
Ere I take my sleep.
Will children of the morrow
Beget no tears to weep?

ASJ

Just as the year is ending
(As winter snows the leaves)
The autumn glow pretending ~
The winter chill deceives.
As squirrels start defending
Their caches underground,
December's shiver pending,
And swallows southward bound.

The cool of day is blending
(As it frosts the forest floor)
Into the sunset tending
To be sooner than before.
The boughs of treetops bending
As gales race through their form
Spiralling and wending
Propelled by winter's storm.

And so, the nightfall sending
(As shadows shade the sky)
The cool of night and rending
The fair of day awry.
With winter's shroud descending
To cause the season's drear,
Just as the year is ending ~
The closing of the year.

ASJ

I reflect on what you look like now!
You were beauteous when I saw you last.
What precious gifts did time endow?
All those years of tranquil absence
As you slumbered away the time somehow.

I wonder if your eyes remain bright,
They always looked at me kindly.
I think that, if you're at home tonight,
I could give you a call ~ perhaps...
Or should I just simply write?

I expect that you smile as you always could;
Intriguing, enchanting, and toasty warm.
But you smiled for me today ~ I knew you would
(In any case I've misplaced your number).
I must be more careful ~ I know I should.

Do you think of me, perchance?
When days are long and nights are cold
Bestow on me a passing glance?
Think of times, now far away ~ distant?
A sombre time, a valedictory happenchance.

I should visit but what's to gain?
~ To see, now, how you are?
I could easily even cause you pain.
I would come soon, now! today!
But outside it looks like rain.

                                          ASJ

Partridge red, how fine you fly;
Winging, gliding up on high.
We down below as you sweep by,
Esteem the rapture to our eye.

Partridge red, how deft you try
To fill the heavens with your cry;
As you ride so fleet and spry
When for your covey fore you vie.

Partridge red, alert yet shy
I call and wait for your reply.
Alas, I close my eyes and sigh
As someone shoots you from the sky.

                                       ASJ

Watch it haste and watch it fly,
Why try espy it flashing by?
Now you see it, now you don't,
Then you heard it ~ now you won't.

First it's here and then it's gone,
It's much the same for everyone.
Like a cloud high in the air
Glance once more and it's not there.

Like a bubble drifting past,
Though you know it cannot last.
A tranquil breeze, the bubble stops ~
Attempt to touch! the bubble pops.

Where it stems from no one knows;
No one sees to where it goes.
You know it's there but you can't find...
As not a trace it leaves behind.

Man can't beat this mighty force,
To try and try he'll fail, of course;
He'll never grasp the wheres and whys
Quam tempus fugit ~ how time flies.

                       ASJ

There he stood with his painted face;
All focused on the bright colours that he wore.
No one saw his eyes (they were out of place)
Why should they?  That's not what they had paid to see.
It was his jolliness that they chose to embrace.

His eyes, though, he could not over paint.
He could only shade round them in order to deceive ~
Nor gloss over them to conceal that troubled taint...
Eyes which contrasted 'gainst a huge red smiling mouth ~
Sad eyes...happy jocose smile... how quaint!

Children laugh, they think he's hilarious fun
(And so he is when you view him from their aspect).
Grown-ups laugh too, when all is said and done;
They won't know what puzzles are under his hat...
'Notalot' ~ if you'll pardon the pun.

I'm not funny, you see, such as is he;
He can recount a million gags  by heart,
Ask anyone if you don't agree ~ with me.
Where he stores them is anyone's guess ~
Maybe neath the spreading chestnut tree.

He has no folks; he has no wife;
He doesn't even have a name of his own.
He has no fulfilment, only strife,
All that he possesses is his own reflection.
(He has no family...has no wife...has no children...has no life).


Today it rained (he's not to blame)
Teamed cats and dogs, so no one came.
He couldn't laugh ~ he tried and tried...
So he, the clown, just cried and cried.

                                                         ASJ

As lightning brights the meadow
And thunder dulls the air;
I feel it still,
A stormy chill,
An aura everywhere.

I wander o'er the pathway
And paddle through the rain;
My bootheels squash
The squelchy wash
Along the puddled lane.

My face refreshed with teardrops
The clouds have wept from high;
They gently wet
My face and yet
They barely seem to cry.

I dance on midst the moisture
The hail sends down to earth;
I sense the beat
Beneath my feet
And sing for all I'm worth.

But when the fulgid sunlight
Warms the land once more;
I'm home to you
As I step through
A rainbow's archwayed door.

ASJ

When all the land is in repose
There is a noise, as nightfall shows,
A noise to stir the sinews of your mind.
And so, who hear it at its best,
(Who know its sound, as others rest)
May thank the Lord, he made it for mankind.

She hums and blows her gentle breezes ,
She comes and goes just as she pleases,
Purrs pastoral verses as her theme;
And when the twilight tones the air,
Then, striking strains are ever there
For one an' all who worship her esteem.

Her voice caresses mighty trees,
And bends their limbs with awesome ease,
Oaks submit and beeches stand-a-quiver.
She stings their leaves when passing through,
Then, sings a chorus, just for you,
A symphony so shrill it makes you shiver.

At times, if anger should prevail,
She tests her truth and blows a gale,
She proves the very essence of her skill.
She musters substance all around,
Her ***** bluster puffs, profound
She punishes the ground with all her will.

But she deems it daylight soon
So she chants a discrete tune
And gifts a temperate ballad, gladly bright;
And when the storm departs the earth
She whistles warm for all she's worth;
There's no sound like the wind makes in the night.

                                                         ­ ASJ

A darkened room has no sorrow
No today and no tomorrow;
A darkened room has no sadness
It has no pain, only madness.

A darkened room has no light
Has no moon or starlight bright;
A darkened room has no shine
Has no lustre, yours or mine.

A darkened room has no good
Has no heartbeat, has no blood;
A darkened room has no breath
Has no life but only death.

A darkened room has no style
Has no simper, has no smile;
A darkened room has no grin
Has no easiness within.

A darkened room has no day
Has no notion, has no say;
A darkened room has no eve
Has no reason to believe.

A darkened room has no PC
It has no he or has no she;
A darkened room has no view
Has no me and has no you.

ASJ

I wish I was a tin man
Out there cutting wood;
I'd rely upon the **** can
To keep my elbows good.
All day I'd task and toil
Until it's time for tea,
And then I'd take a squirt of oil
To keep my knee joints free.

I'd dream about a girlfriend,
My dreams then turn to dust;
I comprehend at daytime's end
I'm just a heap of rust.
I'll never find a maid of tin,
It's tearing me apart,
As when I search my soul, within,
I find I have no heart.

I wish I was a scarecrow
Out, living in a lea.
But all the critters there, though,
Just jest and laugh at me.
I stand about with outspread arms
Scaring off the birds,
I'm seldom found around the farms...
I'm always lost for words.

I dream about a girl of straw
Lithe enough to squeeze;
My dreams then turn to chaff, and so
They blow off in the breeze.
I'll never get a spouse of hay,
My dreams swill down the drain;
I wouldn't know just what to say
I haven't got a brain.

I wish I was a lion brave,
Roaring mighty roars;
Seeing off my foes to save
The world from mighty wars.
I'd spend my time a-prowling,
Vaunting round with pride,
Snarling and a-growling...
But all I do is hide.

I wish I had a lioness
To hunt and ply for me;
But that will never be, I guess ~
I'm cowardly, you see!
I have no courage for to ask
A feline for a date;
I have no luck - I have no pluck
I'll never find a mate.

So, I wish I was the wizard
To save me from the storm;
My life is such a blizzard,
But who will keep me warm?
I long to be a magic man
The future I'd foresee...
But then again a better plan,
I'd rather just be me.

                                 ASJ

I gazed down from the water's side
To see a silver gleam
And standing staring looked and tried
To see beyond the stream.
The clearest water sparkling, pure,
Below me stilled and calm;
Its cooling, soothing, fooling lure,
Seductive in its charm.

I saw a young man peering on
With eyes that conquered all.
But in a moment, he was gone ~
Uncanny, I recall.
Beneath the surface he was there,
A soul of twenty-four,
Then vanished in the swell somewhere
And left me by the shore.

Again, he came when it was staid
And braved another glance.
Yet, had I his acquaintance made
Some long by-go, by chance?
He spoke and told me in a rhyme
He yearned that he was me;
Though musing swept me back in time ~
I longed that I was he.

                                           ASJ

Here I grow, a handsome fir tree
Standing upright within my wood;
An innocent, then let me be.

Where now I thrive for all to see,
Strobilus stemmed out of the bud;
Here I grow, a handsome fir tree.

Today I prosper, living free,
As streaming sap spawns my lifeblood;
An innocent then let me be.

Forever green and wild are we,
My friends and I'd age if we could;
Here I grow, a handsome fir tree.

The gentle breeze may hear my plea
And listen to me as it should;
An innocent, then let me be.

So, man is come to sever me,
To rob me of my livelihood;
Here I grow, a handsome fir tree ~
An innocent, then let me be.

ASJ

She speaks of skirts and dresses
And outings by the sea;
She speaks of curls and tresses
And ribbons flowing free.
She speaks of her successes
And all that she could be;
She speaks of nonthelesses
But never speaks of me.

She looks at morning's start of day
And colours in the sky.
She sees the flowers by the way
And graceful birds that fly.
She watches children gay at play,
Amid the hue and cry;
She looks at breezy trees that sway
But never looks at I.

She thinks of odes of poets told
And relishes with glee;
Tales and yarns of sagas old
As classic scripts decree.
She ponders oft of heroes bold,
In awe of them is she;
She thinks of wonders to behold
But never thinks of me.
  
ASJ

The Busting of Spring
(A Spenserian Sonnet)

The winter is bleak and it chills the soul;
Ice and snow keep you clothed in full.
The frosty day makes its way after all
But the whole day long is gloomy and dull.

Near frozen sheep wearing icicled wool;
Jumbled together to ward off the cold.
The horse and the cow, the ox and the bull,
Facing this winter ~ the young and the old.

But springtime bursts through with verses of gold
Warming the earth with the voice of the sun
Painting a landscape with colours untold,
Lighting the hillsides when day has begun.

Now that the daytime is longer by far,
Stroll with your loved one, enjoy where you are.  

                                                         ­     ASJ

Here, this day, I up and trek
Aways away from home
Across the lane, beyond the beck
That bubbles through the brome.
Ascending, slipshod, up the hill
Where green is twice as nice
Where here the mood is hushed and still
And air is sweet as spice.

There atop a cloudy peak
All but to the sky;
That's where I asylum seek
(Or the least I try).
There where flowing rills below
Divide the valley floor
And there above ~ since long ago ~
The golden eagles soar.

By myself I halt and rest
(Though I am not alone)
As breezes whisper from the west
And chill me to the bone.
I have no destination sure
I leave my angst elsewhere,
Guided by the tranquil lure
I wander here and there.

ASJ

Where have all the raindrops gone
Spilling from on high?
Which once would fall about my head
But now my head is dry.
Where have all the snowflakes gone
Ambling down from space?
Shivering in the winter wild
And melting on my face.

Where have all the rivers gone
Dashing to and fro?
They once would splash across the land
As seaward they would go.
Where have all the oceans gone
To crash against the shore?
All that's left is salted sand
Upon a seabed floor.

Where have all the rainbows gone?
They lighted up the days.
They once would bow and bend and reach
So far, the eye could gaze.
Where have all the sundrops gone
To energise the rain?
Absent now, without a trace,
And never seen again.

And where have all my brothers gone?
Each walked the earth with me;
O'er moor and mountain, here and there,
From clifftop to the sea.
And where have all my sisters gone
And all the loves I've known?
Disappeared, just like the rain,
So, now I'm left alone.

                                ASJ

The night was red as from my bed
I tumbled to the sky.
The breeze was blue as I heard you
Around the garden fly.
The day was black as I stepped back
And felt a gum tree grow.
The rain dripped dry as only I
Would see a rooster crow.

I found my hat and stroked my cat
And led my sows to market.
I saw you say my snout was grey
So steered my car to park it.
I had to flee to Southend Sea
To drop of in the sands.
I went to view the voice of you,
I walked there on my hands.

I robbed a song of two words long
But coughed ~ it didn't rhyme.
Blame begged my heart to stop and start
For beating out of date.
You sailed about the room to shout
And say less, all the more.
From then you came to scream your name,
You entered by the fire.

So as the day was turned to clay
I scrambled through the wall.
I dug a hill for Jack and Jill
And watched them upwards fall.
From deep within a box of gin
I spent an inch or so
I chanced a bite and thought I might
Smoke whiskey through a straw.

And as the time was now sublime
The postman called and bowed.
I washed my words and watched small birds
Pitch snowballs at a cloud.
So back in bed to nest my head
In time to bake a cake.
I fell onto a dullness new,
There slumbered sound awake.

ASJ

The coldest, forceful wind may blow;
The sun may, sometimes, golden glow;
The rain may, often, showery show;
The sky may dust the land with snow.

When it blows my hat is tied;
In the heat,  'neath shade I hide;
I shy from rain until it's dried;
And as it snows, I stay inside.

I don't mind a raucous gale
Or the sunburn in the vale
And nor the damp as raindrops sail
I love the biting snowflake hail.

A gust may roar throughout the night
But by the day the sun may bright;
A storm may rage with all its might ~
The winter snowfall purest white.

Come what may my senses see
All that nature gifts to me.
Fair or foul, wild and free,
That's the way it's meant to be.

                                     ASJ

The spongy earth springs underfoot
Concealing all below;
You mind your way,
This eerie day,
You're careful how you go.

As mists roll off the craggy moss
Concealing all above;
You find your way,
This eerie day,
About a place you love.

A speck of rain anoints your head
Concealing thoughts inside;
You see your way,
This eerie day,
To let your qualms, subside.

The heather forms a carpet here
Concealing peril's traits;
You pick your way,
This eerie day,
Where a quaggy snare awaits.

The day is cool, the wind is sharp
Concealing mortal sound;
You hear your way,
This eerie day,
Ear firmly to the ground.

Envisage ghosts of people past
Concealing souls admired;
You wend your way,
This eerie day,
Where Brontë's were inspired.

But you are where you need to be
Concealing troth secure;
You hide away,
This eerie day,
In the solace of the moor.

ASJ

If I could take my time again
A different thing I'd do;
I'd take the comfort, leave the pain,
I'd take the sunshine, leave the rain,
If only I could start anew.

If I could be another's son
A different path I'd choose;
I'd walk along, I wouldn't run,
I'd leave the sorrow, take the fun,
If only I could re-infuse.

If I could start another hour
A different way I'd go;
I'd take the sweetness, leave the sour,
I'd take the jolly, leave the dour,
If only I could make it so.

If I could live another day
I'd tread a different way;
I'd leave the turmoil, take the calm,
And leave the coarseness, take the charm,
If I could take my time again...
I'd take the sunshine, leave the rain.

ASJ

I am not now the one I used to be.
Time has changed me, as to everyone it does;
I am a divergent wight now, as you see,
My soul has become so much more infinite
And so, with contrasting ideas I now agree.

That one I used to be I am not still.
I am no wiser despite the fleeting years;
Though I exist in the hope that until
(Or that time comes when I am able)
All my aspirations I may yet fulfil.

There was a time when I saw things very clear
Though that is not exactly so today.
There was a time when I held things very dear
But now I am older, I admit my concerns ~
Though when I was young, I harboured no fear.

I now view friends in a different way;
Without them what would a person's existence be?
Without them what would be left to say?
Even if, at times, you disagree with a friend
You keep them close as your allies for another day.

So, the one I was I no longer am,
Although my own god has survived intact.
Other mortals' idols I no longer **** ~
As each and every one of us has his own convictions...
Non sum qualis eram

ASJ

I had so much to tell you
A while ago away;
And, although our tidings few,
There seemed so much to say.
When you were old ~ whilst I was young,
I might have listened when
A weave of words, together strung,
Were tendered now and then.


But note!  the hour has wandered late
And dulls the muse of mind;
Time and tide for no man wait ~
Ago remains behind.
So, words unspoken, not to know,
Are words that time forgot,
They mattered to me then, ago,
But now they matter not.

ASJ

There is no god in England
(I learned of that this day)
For when a man is stricken
He has no more to say.
He lies in expectation,
The end to shortly be,
Torment is blindly gazing out
Through eyes that barely see.

The blaze within his body
Radiates, and yet,
The chilling of his very soul
Allows him to forget.
With sonance all around him,
The sobbing and the tears,
He listens to so many words
Whereas he hardly hears.

And so, within his restless mind
His hopes are all he'll keep;
All he'll find to warm his heart
As those about him weep.
And in the darkness of the hour,
When all is done and said,
He sleeps the sleep that comes to pass
And rapes his weary head.

ASJ

In every life some rain must fall,
Though wherefrom heaven knows.
With passing years, the storm may call,
The tempest comes and goes.
The day could see a cloudburst hail
To soak you through and through
Yet silver raindrops deftly fail
To bathe away the blue.

As thunder quakes the path of life,
Like cannons in the sky.
And lightning, cutting like a knife,
An electric charge on high.
When icy drops sleet all about
And crisis canters near
Then windy blows that scream and shout
Bombard the soul with fear.

So now I'm old, though seldom sad,
I think of days long gone.
I smile about the good and bad
And savour every one.
Although the darkened clouds may drift
And bluster out their rains
I still salute a special gift ~
The sunshine here remains.

ASJ

I planted out an oak tree
One hundred years ago;
I saw her fed and watered,
I watched her lithely grow.
I watched her through the winter wild
Frosted, frore and dark.
I watched her as the summer sunburn
Baked her golden bark.

My friend the ardent oak tree
Drew me by the hand;
Her strength an inspiration,
She taught me how to stand.
Amidst the savage blizzard
She learned to bow and bend;
Resisting stormful battles,
Triumphant in the end.

Now an aged oak tree,
Her wisdom with me resting,
She, towering tall, majestic
Withstanding nature's testing.
Her arms suffuse, embracing,
She beckoned me with pride;
I laid me down within her shroud
And neath her sanctum died.

ASJ

Where the ocean meets the sky
Far away, some distant place;
There is where so often I,
That is where I often try,
To seek a mild solace.

Where the ocean joins the cloud
And nothing in between;
There is where I think aloud
Neath the heavens' sheltered shroud
Where nought is ever seen.

Where the ocean finds the sun
There is where it's bright;
Even when the day is done,
When the shining while has run ~
Even when it's night.

Where the ocean gulps the air
And crashing waves are stirred;
There is where, without a care,
Neath the heavens' sultry stare,
Where nought is ever heard.

Where the ocean meets the sky
And where my thoughts unwind;
There is where I ponder why,
Where my true devotions lie ~
Horizons of my mind.

ASJ

And so, the day in earnest comes,
She slowly starts to grow.
Then the daylight blush appears
And gently starts to show.
Just as the songbirds first awake
To serenade the air...
Digest the moment, listen well
Their voice spills everywhere.

As strands of brilliant light are born
To saturate the ground;
Creatures of the daytime stir
And deftly move around;
Watch them roused (unbeknownst to them)
And see them frisk and quest,
Remember soundly all you see...
Creation at its best.

When flowery blooms have made their debut
Here on nature's stage.
Their heads have lifted from their sleep
To pay you their homage.
Perfumed petals blazing brightly
Giving all they've got;
Note their beauty, air and grace,
Therefore, forget them not.

The mighty army - ancient oaks -
Protect from rain and sun;
Stout and towering overhead
Their defence has now begun.
They creak and groan against the wind
Bending in the breeze...
Retain this aspect in your mind,
The visage of the trees.

In the sunshine you may walk
Beside the one you care for;
(Or talk and listen in the rain)
Embrace this time and therefore...
Applaud this day with all your heart
As daytime glow is cast;
Seize the day - carpe diem -
This day may be your last.

ASJ

Who am I?  I wonder oft
And hope that I may see,
Who it is that is me,
And ask my maker up aloft
Who, indeed, I be?

Whyfor I'm here I ask aloud
And yearn for his reply,
And search for reason why,
From he beyond the cloud
Who, indeed, be I?

What use am I ?  I cannot know
If I am never told
What place that I should hold,
The direction I should go,
Until, indeed, I'm old.

When do I die?  I ask again
When will my day be through?
If, now, I only knew,
I query this in vain
I do: indeed, I do.

No answer do I, yet, receive,
For he replying not,
No reason for my lot
Then, am I when I take my leave,
The soul that God forgot?

ASJ

A willow trembles in the breeze
And stoops in awe as angels sneeze;
Quaking feebly to its knees,
Bending, doleful, if you please.

A day, as this, when squalls blow wild
The willow cries as like a child;
Deserted, sad, forlorn, beguiled,
And all aloof, left out, exiled.

Now her branches droop away
Blenching down throughout the day;
Keeping blusts of gusts at bay
Harboured from the rainy spray.

Underfoot a lonely duck
Shelters in a babbling brook,
Dabbling in a shady nook
Safe and sound, her haven took.

Then above the daylight seeps,
In the sky the sunlight peeps,
She, thankful for the faith she keeps...
The trembling willow gently weeps.

ASJ

Clouds loom drifting, passing by,
The west wind gently tempts them on
Though no one knows what cause them cry
And no one hears their pleading voice
As all their acid tears well dry.

Snowy white, in rank and file,
The south wind warmly glides them far;
Smiling wryly all the while
Natant high above the earth
Ambling on, mile after mile.

Alluring to the offhand glancer
The east wind briskly chafes them forth
Skittering like the showtime dancer
Yet hidden deep within their breast
A growing rude and covert cancer.

But nature's wrath will bid her toll
The north wind casts the clouds astray
Freezing, breezing, pole to pole,
The stricken, tainted, wisps will wane ~
Dare no one care to save their soul?

So now as time is dwindling low
As the ill winds clime their worst
The poisoned rains, in flooding flow,
**** our land to end mankind ~
And still, the winds shall wanton blow

ASJ

His coat has many colours,
Joseph is his name;
Although some call him 'Joey'
It's Joseph just the same.

The collar on his cloak
Is such a vibrant red;
From his shoulders to his pointy chin
It goes right to his head.

The nether of his robe
Has hues of greens and blues
From his chubby, rounded waist
To his rugged grey-black shoes.

His sleeves are speckled yellow,
A dazzling golden shade;
And silver sprays within the fold ~
Delightful how they're made.

Bright scarlet and vermilion
Make threads of coloured joy;
For, Joey is a parrot
And 'e's a pretty boy.

ASJ