Something is a-foot

(or should I say a-wing), so

be well aware of seagulls

and their artful schemes

around the shores and other

inland haunts because they

know quite well how to

muck spread into our sun-

tanned faces and keep us

on our toes and our hands

primed for surprise attacks.

At first they sus you out

and look like butter wouldn’t

melt - hovering around your

chair and spaces. Given half a

chance they’d steal a chip or

two or maybe more and look

at the tomato sauce (as if you

were missing out on table

graces by not offering them

a share of condiments as well)

And don’t their plaintive

madrigals go on and on, and

then they’ll pinch a scone to

help wash down the other

scavenged food – how rude is

that! And not a penny piece do

seagulls pay for anything at all.

What they always do is caterwaul

in avian terms – it makes me want

to squirm – and not a pest control

officer anywhere in sight or RSPCA.

It’s why the seagulls come each day

I read just recently one picked up

a tiny dog no doubt for nefarious

means, but fortunately for Fifi she’d

just downed a tinful of curried beans

and blew that seagull into smithereens

(Figuratively I mean of course)




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