The Sleepy Partridge

There was a Partridge in a pear tree,
A lady Partridge (as all could see)
Who'd awoken at dawn
With a ladylike yawn
To care for her daughters and sons,
As each day she had done
Since the very first one.
(A mother's mom-work is never quite done.)

Off to school the little chicks hustle.
(They tumble and race and tussle.)
And when at last they are gone
The sleepy Partridge lets out a loud yawn
(Almost as loud as a burglar alarm).
Into the neat nest she nestles,
Re-arraying the plumes of her motherly bustle
And trimming her prim feathers and ruffles.
With each wing folded and fantail in place
And her children flown off into space,
The sleepy Partridge falls asleep at once.
Off to dreamland she sleepily flies 
Exhaling exhausted unladylike sighs.

Now the wind picked up, 
Sharp and abrupt,
From nowhere very here or there,
The way things begin in a dream 
Where everything that is is seems.
The wind kicked up, wound up, wild and free,
Rocking the sleepy Partridge in her greeny pear tree
Until thump thump 
She was dumped
By the bumpity breeze
Right out of her nest as if shoved by a sneeze!

She fell smack down upon her
Neighbor's roaring lawnmower
That moaned a rip-roaring 'Rrrrrrrrrrrr  rrrr-rrr'
As it chewed at the sward
With its mouthful of swords.
But the sleepy Partridge slept sweetly on,
She was so tired (and the kids were gone).
The sleepy Partridge slept sweetly on,
As if the raucous lawnmower were
Purring a fuzzy kitten's purr.

"Good moo-morning," mooed Cow 
With an ouch-loud "Moo-oo!"
But the sleepy partridge passed right on through
Without so much as a 'How-do-you-do.'
Old Cow in a huff
Shook her hoof with a gruff:
"Not mooing moo-morning
Is certainly something
Neither I nor you-oo would ever do-oo!"

The sleepy Partridge, stuck
Under the wide wheels of a revving Mack truck
Came within seconds of being dumbstruck!
Big wheels in the muck whirr whirr whirred,
But the sleepy partridge never heard
And slept on on her featherbed 
Undisturbed.

She even slept deep in a bippity drum
Where no sleepy silence could come
Since tough Tommy Twohands
Had joined up with the school band
And brought home just as soon 
As the first practice was through
A brand new marching tune
That went bop on the drum: 
'Ba Da Dum, Ba Da Dum
Ba Da Dum.'

Blowin' one big bad ol' note from its tube,
Brassy and unbearably rude,
With a big round sound
So loud and so proud
The big brass tuba tootled 'Toot-toot!'
While the sleepy Partridge, sweet as a flute,
Snored in the golden horn.

Curled tight on the stereo speaker,
The sleepy Partridge refused to stir,
Not even for the throb
Of the volume knob
Or the amplified crooner's forlorn "La-Las!"
(Not even for the oboe's awful oom pah-pah.)

All unaware on a mighty dreadnaught
The sleepy partridge snored off to war.
One side had less and the other had more
(Which is often the cause of wars and whatnot).
Screaming enemies screamed "We're caught!"
Big batteries boomed 'Boom boom-'
Through it all the sleepy Partridge snoozed,
Sunk neck-deep in neat feathers still nattily groomed.
She slept soft as a pillow, slept softer,
-And what's more
She occasionally snooted a little bird snore.

When the space shuttle took off
Into clouds soft and aloft
Loud as a whooping crane's cough,
The sleepy Partridge remained
Serene in feather and brain
While far Californian rooms
Shook to the shuttle's cantankerous zoom
And the take-off's ear-splitting VOOM!

Off of the rumbly shuttle she tumbled
(She was almost lost in space!)
And fell for a mile in fluffy disgrace.
Sleeping the whole time, she dreamily dropped
Beak over feet
Upside-down in her seat
Until the sleepy Partridge stopped with a plop
(And a swish and a whish) 
In the boughs of a bouncy pear tree
Just like the one where we began our story.

School had let out (it was mid late-afternoon)
And the wee peeps all fluttered home
To the toys in their rooms.
"Shh!" said one, "Mommy's sleeping. Come see!"
"Oh! How I missed her!" thought both silently,
And the pair of wee partridges snuck tip-toe on bird-toes
Quietly home to their homey pear tree.

And then the Mommy woke up,
Which she hadn't for trucks
Or oom-pahs or toots, or rattles, rrr-rrrrs or big bangs,
Nor drums nor whistles, cows, cars nor loud art,
But slept through it all without even a start.
"My dears!" she declared. "I've had the most marvelous rest.
I was dreaming of you and our own little nest."

Gregg Glory
[Gregg G. Brown]

gregglory@aol.com
http://www.corporategreed.com/gregglory