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A Parrot Christmas Poem


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T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the tree,

the birdies and parrots were all filled with glee,

The clutches were snuggled in their down feathered nests,

while vision of flight, sent them all soaring west.


Fresh millet sprays had been hung with great care,

with hopes that "Old Scarlet" (Parrot St. Nick) soon would be there.

The Conures and Amazons had all settled down,

but those crazy cockatoos were still hopping around.


When high in the tree tops, a ruckus arose,

I thought I should check, just to see what goes.

Peeking through branches, leaves lit by the moon,

I thought I was dreaming it looked just like noon!


When what to my wondering eyes should there be,

but a flock of eight Grey's with Red Tails shining landing in the next tree.

Gliding behind, holding reins in his beak,

I spied the red bird, with a blush on his cheek.


He whistled and squawked, calling each one by name,

buoyed by a breeze, as closer they came.

Now Talon, now Josey, now Dayo and Ana Grey,

on Corky, on Misty, on Gilda and Gracie.


To the top of the palms, to the top of trees tall,

now fly away, fly away, fly away all!

I watched as they circled the green jungle maze,

and thought for a second I'd lost sight, I was in such a daze!


But, soon they appeared, drawing a basket behind,

which was filled with new toys of the bright, shiny kind.

Back to my branch I climbed mighty quick,

I'd heard of Old Scarlet, surely this was no trick!


He carefully perched by an old snoring grey,

while I fretted and wondered if he'd get scared away.

He wasn't even distracted when the parakeet sneezed.

He hung the new whirlygigs, sighed and looked pleased.


Standing proud and quite stately, he filled me with trust;

but I felt ashamed, his feathers were covered with cockatoo dust.

He paused, just a moment, fluffed and preened in a stoop,

turned around slowly, saying "At least it's not poop."


Then he laughed out loud--like a real human being.

I blinked my eyes twice, at what I was seeing.

He picked up a peanut and tossed it my way.

"Here's a small Christmas treat. Don't get spoiled, okay?"


He strutted back to the basket, put a strap round each wing,

chirped at his flock, who started to sing.

Their tones were so perfect, they were magically dear.

I was sure it was Memorex or a choir quite near.


The melody lingered, for a moment or two,

but I caught one last glimpse, before they flew.

His eyes were so merry, twinkling with impish delight.

His charming ways had brightened this long Christmas night.


As upward they soared, toward the golden round moon,

I heard every word, he joyfully crooned.

"Merry Christmas to all, peace, joy and cheer.

Be good little birdies. I'll see you next year!"


Author Unknown (edited a little by danmcq)

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