Only a strip for now
Gifts preferential growth conditions
To the favoured corner
It is what we do is it not
To make favourites
Of those already blessed with the best
Of nutritive environments
The solitary gull glides and swoops
A scavenger to all intents and purposes
To be frowned upon at the seaside
When all he asks for is vanilla ice cream
The gull though will die a less viscous death
Than the glorious flamboyant partridge
Who for now struts his stuff without demure
But his vainglorious neck will soon be limp
Slung as game, over the gamekeepers shoulder
Or hung, as a trophy, by the gun toting sportsman
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