Watch The Birdie

A poem about the Yellowhammer

‘A happy home of sunshine, flowers and streams,’ Wrote Clare of your abode, yet now we know That in some grim, worst-case scenario The poet’s words might be the stuff of dreams. Though prey to snakes your helpless young might be The future augurs even worse to fear As fields are ploughed and hedgerows disappear And meadows sink beneath a rising sea. Yes, doom and gloom your happy home might mar, Yet fear not yellowhammer! Cling to hope, For one who calmly claims that he can cope Whate’er befalls comes like a rising star With yellow, straw-like hair and winsome charm Who, being keen your needs to satisfy, Would sooner choose in some damp ditch to die Than fail to save your happy home from harm.