In fancy I do hear the male pheasant crow <br />In the field by the river where the rank rushes grow <br />A father though none of his young he does know <br />The females to his life they come and they go. <br /> <br />By this time next year he may not be alive <br />As the pheasant shoot in the Fall he may well not survive <br />Many male pheasants by shooters shot dead as they fly <br />He may not be here for to crow next July. <br /> <br />But long after he to the forever has gone <br />His D N A in his descendants is destined to live on <br />They will be heard crowing where the rushes grow tall <br />The survivors of the pheasant shoot of the Fall. <br /> <br />In fancy the old fields never far away <br />Where the rushes grow tall by the river today <br />In the quiet of the evening by the old country town <br />The pheasant is crowing as the sun is going down.<br /><br />Francis Duggan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-fancy-i-do-hear-the-male-pheasant-crow/
