There is a bird which warbles late at night, <br />no doubt fooled by the bright streetlight; <br />it thinks it is day when, in fact, it is night, <br />and feels obliged to sing when it aught not. <br /> <br />Some say it’s a nightingale, <br />but I prefer another tale, <br />and so would you, <br />if only you knew. <br /> <br />The bird nests in the ground of Lanchester Club, <br />where there’s music and much drinking in the pub. <br />The smell of beer makes it tipsy and tight, <br />so it joins in, and sings late into the night.<br /><br />Isam Hussain<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-carouser/
