From The Archives: The Bird Pooplympics

[image error]

If you’re like me and sometimes you have quite unlucky days,

You may have been bombarded by a bird.

It may have been quite sticky, and dribbled down your front:

It’s often an extraordinary turd.

It may have been bad luck, and you may be simply cursed,

It may have had no reason and no rhyme.

But I think that your doo-dooing was part of an event.

I think that it was Bird Pooplympics time.

The Annual Bird Pooplympics are quite a fun affair.

They start with Bird Poo races (always fun).

The next event’s my favourite—the Synchronised Release

Where poops land in a pattern, one-by-one.

Of course there’s Bird Poop Hurdles—where birds must duck and weave,

Leaving little turds along the way.

However, it’s the Archery where all the birds take aim

At you and me, to decimate our day.

So when the next white dribble falls upon your lap,

Don’t shake your head, complain, or start to cry!

Yell at the offender. Shake your angry fists.

Shout “Do Pooplympics elsewhere!!” at the sky.

[image error]     [image error]     [image error]     [image error]     [image error]   
For exclusive updates and a free book of poems, join the mailing list!