|
|
 |
| A ratta-tat tat Went his beak forth and back, A ratta-tat tat-a-tat tat. Like a wild man’s beat Went the crazy-bird's beak, The mad ratta-tat tat-a-tat tat. Through the air and the ground Drilled the unceasing sound, The endless noise and the drum. My head would crack From this endless whack, My head would split like a plum. I wanted to stop That ratta-tat jock, To end that tat-tat a tat. So I picked up a gun Full of spit balls and gum, And that was the end—that was that. © 2001 R. Bartly Betts |