The little bluebird
Finn Whozit
There once was a little bluebird, as blue as blue can seem.
She had a very large tree, "up till heaven!" They'd always say.
Once there where hunters, though not anymore.
When they lived, they were as low as hell.
The poor animals never knew where they hid.
But not our little bluebird, she was a smart one.
One day, in bright spring, she found some old hunters. Not bright. Not new.
She poked out their eyes, her favorite kind of torture.
Then others came, to join in the action.
They bite, they scratched, they tore off their limbs
all things to get off their back.
The hunters bled and bled, 'till they couldn't take it anymore
they ran to the river, and bled no more.
The animals, they ran to them, and pushed them in.
The hunters, to tired to swim, sunk and sunk
'till they were dead, dead, dead.