The Grouse

A bit of humor, a bit of gore.

There once lived a thin-framed woman

In her thin-framed house

She was old and wrinkled

And known for her grouse-

For you see she owned a bird

Most peculiar it was 

But just as well her speech was slurred

And she complained with no cause.

Any near bystander

Would have to be subject

To trying to understand her

As she left them all henpecked-

But one day that odd bird

That always followed her around

With its feathers that so burred

The little Grouse so browned

Took many pecks of his own

To her wrinkled old face

Pecking straight to the bone

With a quick, deliberate pace. 

He stabbed and he pierced 

Straight through to her brain

In his eyes something fierce

Driving him to inflict such pain.

Once he hacked his way through her skull

It was clear he wasn’t done 

Not a moment left dull 

For the rematch had just begun.

All the while he bit and tore

At her now uglier, bloodied head

He left her alive long enough to make sure

She felt just retaliation before she was dead.