It was a murder mystery in the wood and Jenny Wren was distraught
Her husband Cock Robin was now lying dead and the culprit just had to be caught.
No one saw a thing, everyone said, not even the Stare of Owls,
Or the Clat of Worms, or Swarm of Wasps , or the Plump of Waterfowls.
The Mischief of Mice could not be trusted and the Cats were just a Nuisance.
The Skulk of Foxes said not one word and the Flamingos were merely a Flamboyance.
“His slaying is Bizarre”, the Guillemots said, as above the Gulls did Screech.
“We know who did it!” was the Cry of the Hounds , their noise Drove away all the Sheep.
“It would be the Murder of Crows”, they all said as one, but doubtful was the Starlings’ Murmuration.
“This is all very Troubling,” the Goldfish said and the Doves agreed in their Pitying.
The Parrots went into Pandemonium, while the Peacocks just displayed Ostentation.
A Cloud of Bats took to the air and the Eagles called a Convocation.
The Salamanders were in Congress with the Parliament of Rooks, the evidence they were examining.
Ignoring the Lapwing’s Deceit, the Charm of Magpies, and the noise of the Choughs all ‘a Clattering.
“It would be someone he knew,” said the Sleuth of Bears, “Maybe a close, trusted fellow?”
All looked at the hedge, where poor Robin lay dead, the scope of suspects now narrow.
“I admit it. It was me,” said a voice in the Host. It was a Sparrow with a bow and arrow.