THE BURGOMASTER GULL.
The old-wives sit on the heaving brine,
White-breasted in the sun,
Preening and smoothing their feathers fine,
And scolding, every one.
White-breasted in the sun,
Preening and smoothing their feathers fine,
And scolding, every one.
The snowy kittiwakes overhead,
With beautiful beaks of gold,
And wings of delicate gray outspread,
Float, listening while they scold.
With beautiful beaks of gold,
And wings of delicate gray outspread,
Float, listening while they scold.
And a foolish guillemot, swimming by,
Though heavy and clumsy and dull,
Joins in with a will when he hears their cry
'Gainst the Burgomaster Gull.
Though heavy and clumsy and dull,
Joins in with a will when he hears their cry
'Gainst the Burgomaster Gull.
For every sea-bird, far and near,
With an atom of brains in its skull,
Knows plenty of reasons for hate and fear
Of the Burgomaster Gull.
With an atom of brains in its skull,
Knows plenty of reasons for hate and fear
Of the Burgomaster Gull.
