The bird won't sing again...
The bird won't sing again...
The hunter looked through the branches of the birch tree
Yes! he was there, the grandma's bird, singing free
The shallow cracks of the earth should have swallowed the wretched hunter
But the bird's sweet melody could even fill the scars of others.
The hunter took out his gun and aimed
At the singing bird whose tales of fame
Had reached the village and it's flesh would cost
'Atleast five pounds' the hunter thought.
A flash of memories reminded him
About the grandma whose bird was this
Fleshy one sitting here on the tree
Waiting under the noon sunlight for the grandma's treat.
'Oh what a tubby jackpot!' the hunter remarked
Ricocheted the gun and shot the bullet at the poor lad
The bullet pierced through the sweet heart of the singing bird
The crying bird fell down from the branch of the birch.
The door of the hut opened ajar
And stepped out from the house,the blind grandma
She walked towards the birch tree to find the bird
But no bird sang the sweet song from the birch.
The grandma's eyes watered at his unheard call
The hunter took the bird and went along
The grandma missed a step without his instructions vague
That was when she realised the bird won't sing again...