Martin PattieAustralian Bush Poet

Our old Bower Bird named Billy,
he had stolen from our Lily,
bits of Lego from the sandpit where she played.
And then back at Billy's bower,
just to maximise its power it was put in place;
strategically displayed.

So we crept down through lantana,
to his bachelor nirvana,
where our Billy squawked and screeched with lotsa noise.
Seeing why he was aggressive,
cos his bower was impressive;
strewn with lots of household stuff - and Lily's toys

There were stones from off the v'randah
which I'd picked up in Kuranda,
and some flowers from my new bloom desert rose.
An old menu from Chop Sueys,
and some bottle tops off Tooheys,
and a tissue on which someone blew their nose.

There were shells from local beaches,
and some stones from eaten peaches,
and a chewed out smelly Queensland mud crab claw.
And a shiny 8 mil socket,
musta fallen from my pocket,
and then Lily's Lego propped right at the door.

Of the thieving by this fella,
somehow Dad needed to tell her;
but a three year old might not quite understand.
Yeah it's only Danish plastic,
but to Billy it's fantastic
as the Bower Birdettes queued at Lego land.

Then more Lego disappears,
and our Lily bursts in tears,
poor young kid just wants her bits of Lego back.
Whilst in tears she tries to tell us,
Billy's braggin' to the fellas
'bout his new found plastic aphrodisiac.

I had second thoughts defending
Billy's message he was sending,
when he started pinching Smurfs and play dough lids.
Not just resting on his laurels,
and not fussed about the morals
that arise from stealing toys off little kids.

Real soon Billy's nest resembled
an old Play School set assembled
just so Billy boy could pull a bird or two.
There were Smurfs and blocks and fairies,
yellow dolls and pink canaries,
and then at the door a small stuffed bear called Pooh!

Then the end it came for Billy,
all testosteroned and silly;
an overdose of ornithological smut.
When we found him he was sickly,
all that hot blood soused so quickly;
just a lump inside an eight foot pythons gut.

Now the missus . . . in Bill's honour,
since that randy bird's a goner,
she's used his courtship rite that's tried and true.
On my pillow Lego's showing
when she wants me to be knowing
that she's keen to work on baby number two.

By Martin James Pattie
www.martinpattie.com.au