Now with a slight addition to this enquiry into a natural mystery.

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In their turn the seasons say hello

To lead us shivering to winter's blow.

But tell me pray - does anyone know...

Where do all the dead birds go?

 

City wings flap to and fro

Street wise pigeons parade in a row

Like some beruffled military show,

But when they die - where do they go?

 

Beyond, where workmen wield the hoe,

Are trees where country cousins grow,

To live their lives - then secretly go

In death, but where?  Does anyone know? 

 

Has anybody seen any sign of a show

Of the toll of dead birds vanished like snow?

Dropping off their perches, high and low,

But where are the bodies - does anyone know?

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