Larry's Gallery:   Grey Butcherbird (1/7)

PASSERIFORMES: Artamidae

Cracticus torquatus  

The Butcher Bird

I MIGHT charm you with my song,
Could you but forget my trade,
Where I pipe the autumn long
In some bowered wattle glade--
Pipe a rollicking refrain
Such as Circe might not scorn,
Jovial amongst my slain
Grimly dangling from the thorn.

Never yet had siren sung
From a falser heart than mine,
Witness these grim trophies hung
Round me, while a cadence fine
Ripples on the balmy air
To the Fall's soft winds astir,
While anew I set my snare
For some feathered voyager.

There's a note of careless glee,
Impish laughter in my lay;
Droll duets my mate with me
Improvises. We are gay
Lest the silence, were we dumb,
Should betray the evil mind
Of hunter and of huntress come
To bring destruction to our kind.

Yet, tho' grisly be my trade,
Is man's consciense clear as mine,
Singing in my wattle glade
Where I innocently dine?
And, when autumn comes again,
Haply you'll forget it all,
Lured anew by that refrain
Of the singing cannibal.

The Butcher Bird
by C J Dennis (1876-1938)
The Singing Garden (1935) p.129.