 | The Poems of John Clare |  |
TURKEYS
The turkeys wade the close to catch the beesIn the old border full of maple trees,
And often lay away and breed and come
And bring a brood of chelping chickens home.
The turkey gobbles loud and drops his rag
And struts and sprunts his tail and then lets drag
His wing on ground and makes a huzzing noise,
Nauntles at passer-by and drives the boys
And bounces up and flies at passer-by.
The old dog snaps and grins, nor ventures nigh.
He gobbles loud and drives the boys from play;
They throw their sticks and kick and run away.
| The Poems of John Clare | |