The renegade swift
There once was a nondescript swift
(Try this after several glasses)
Whose antics left other swifts miffed,
In partic’lar the swift upper classes.
Problem was: he didn’t do swooping
Or hanging round roof-eaves or gables.
And nest-boxes left his wings drooping,
Like the corners of cloths on fine tables.
In fact, our swift’s favourite pastime,
Which he’d practised for fortnights on end,
Was mimicking pigeons. The last time
A hen pigeon begged to be friends.
But he found that his slovenly habits
Didn’t give the swift ladies much pleasure.
And they nested and bred much like rabbits
As he watched with disdain at his leisure.