‘Lyric’ – the little word has wings
And warbles as it flies.
No others from the Muses’ clutch
Approach its melodies.

The bravest of the brood is fledged
And fain to leave the nest.
Go, my pretty one, take wing,
Fly North, South, East and West!

Alas! It flies too high to hear;
Its message from afar
A long white streak of shit to smear
The windscreen of your car.