Pam Ayres and the Embarrassing Experience with the Parrot

25

Pam Ayres and the Embarrassing Experience
with the Parrot

by Pam Ayres

At the Cotswold Wild Life Park,

In the merry month of May,

I paid the man the money

And went in to spend the day.

Straightway to the Pets Corner

I turned my eager feet,

To go and see the rabbits

And give them something to eat.

As I approached the hutches

I was alarmed to see

A crowd of little yobbos,

'Ollerin' with glee,

I crept up close behind them

And weighed the scene up quick,

And saw them poke the rabbits,

Poke them! . . with a stick!

'Get off you little devils!'

I shouted in their ear,

'Don't you poke them rabbits,

That's not why they are here.'

I must have really scared them,

In seconds they were gone,

And feelin' I had done some good

I carried on along.

Till up beside the Parrots Cage

I stood to view the scene,

They was lovely parrots,

Beautiful blue and green,

In and out the nestbox,

They was really having fun,

Squawking out and flying about,

All except for one.

One poor old puffed-up parrot

Clung grimly to his perch,

And as the wind blew frontwards

Backwards he would lurch,

One foot up in his feathers,

Abandoned by the rest,

He sat there, plainly dying,

His head upon his chest.

Well, I walked on down the pathway

And I stroked a nanny goat,

But the thought of parrots dyin'

Brought a lump into me throat,

I could no longer stand it,

And to the office I fled,

Politely I began: 'Scuse me,

"Your parrot's nearly dead.'

So me and a curator,

In urgent leaps and bounds

With a bottle of Parrot Cure

Dashed across the grounds.

The dust flew up around us,

As we reached the Parrots Pen

And the curator he turned to me

Saying 'Which one is it then?'

You know what I am going to say,

He was not there at all,

At least, not where I left him,

No, he flit from wall to wall,

As brightly as a button

Did he squawk and jump and leap,

The curator was very kind,

Saying, 'I expect he was asleep.'

But I was humiliated

As I stood before the wire,

The curator went back

To put his feet up by the fire,

So I let the parrot settle

And after a short search,

I found the stick the yobbos had,

And poked him off his perch.

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