The Bagel Bird

The Bagel Bird, by all accounts,

Is said to lunch on large amounts

Of sticks and twigs and sand and stones

And plastic parts from broken phones.

He’ll nibble bits of copper wires

And rubber from discarded tires.

He’ll chomp on tops of cuckoo clocks

And swallow shorts and stinky socks.

He’ll chew your shoes and eat your hat.

He’ll bite your books and baseball bat.

He’ll stuff his lips with poker chips

And snack on sails from sailing ships

And gobble poles and bowling balls

And pick at bricks from fallen walls

And graze on grass and feed on weeds

And dine on twine and strings of beads.

But bagels… Whether white or wheat,

Or salt, savoury, or sweet,

Or topped with lox or luncheon meat,

Are something he will never eat.

At least that’s what I’ve always heard

About the crazy Bagel Bird.

But I don’t mind because you see,

That leaves more bagels just for me