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C J Dennis - Bird - Seed
Work rating: Low

Old Pete Parraday, he isn`t very wise --
Or so the local gossips say -- They love to criticise
   His crazy views and values, and the things he counts worth while.
   "Better had he saved his money," say his critics, with a smile;
"And not become a pensioner with all his silly chat
Of finches, wrens and robins, and such trivial thngs as that.
   It`s livin` lonely all these years has filched his brains away."
   "An` left me kind o` peacefuller," grins old Pete Parraday.

Old Pete Parraday, he sits beside the road
Resting from the hefting of his week-end load:
   Bread and meat and groceries to serve his simple need,
   And a tiny paper packet with the tag, "Bird Seed."
"I allus gits three-pennyworth -- I`ve never needed more --
For them there little Pommy-birds wot hops about me door --
   Goldfinches, starlings an` stranger-folk like they
   Wot ain`t brung up to grubs an` things," says old Pete Parraday.

"The robins likes their meal-worms; the blue-wrens tackles grubs;
Grey thrushes goes for take-alls like the boozers goes for pubs;
   But the little vegetarians for food has far to roam;
   An` so I buys `em bird-seed to make `em feel at `ome --
Goldfinches, sichlike, them little stranger-folk . . .
I know `ow people counts me soft an` reckons I`m a joke
   When I talks about me bird friends.  I`ve seed `em nudge an` wink.
   But I valyers them there mates o` mine.  Cos why?  They makes me think.

"They makes me think of beauty, of the glory of the earth,
An` they leads me on to dreamin`.  An` wot is dreamin` worth?
   Some folk might call it crazy; but it`s heaven`s gift to me.
   Aye, vision sich as never is or was by land or sea.
Man cannot live by bread alone, nor dreams be put in words;
An`, if I`m mad, I`m happy mad, an` talkin` to me birds.
   Three-pennyworth o` bird-seed counts more to me that way
   Then all the wealth of Sheba`s queen," says old Pete Parraday.
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