21 November – Lads at large

Strutting about in their cocky crowing crowd,
a stag party of pheasants define loud and proud.
Dressed to the nines and swaggering through the field,
what high life do they think our little village will yield?
What dares are they planning and who is the groom?
I hope their hens will peck them into line again soon.
Meanwhile they’ll continue on as if they own the place,
guffawing and cawing constantly with no social grace.
The day is only just beginning, have they any shame?
Were they out all night long playing wild drinking games?
I leave them all behind, retreating to the peace of home,
I hope they keep out of my garden and leave me well alone.