The Butcher Bird
The butcher comes early
warbling his signature tune.
Does he sing only after he’s satisfied that first primal urge?
rending and tearing his prey, smashing it until it’s dead
gorging himself on the macerated flesh?
Is it then, sated and satisfied
he feels the notes swell in his throat
Like some bloody reflux
pouring out in a gush of liquid notes?

- Christine Davidson

Come into my pantry
The butcher bird did sing
I’ve quite a tasty dinner
Of almost everything
There are insects here
And lizards there
Some freshly hung and quartered
A field mouse specially picked for you
Which I myself just slaughtered
They’re all impaled for your delight
Eat all that you can manage
When the pantry’s empty
I’ll simply wreak more damage

Oh Sir! I’m very grateful
For all your kindness shown
But tell me this you slaughterer
How can you then atone
For all the life you’ve stolen thus
I should be making quite a fuss
How is it that you sing so well?
The sweetest notes I’ve ever heard
I’ve fallen fully for your spell
That comes from such a vicious bird
Your pitch is clear and rings so pure
You have great charm and so much more
Let’s go then on a killing spree
With one for you and two for me

- Celia Esplin

How sad to hear you maligned
So narrowly defined
As cruel and vicious
When to me you are precious
Considered a dear friend
cheerful and sweet
Far more than a sweet tweet

I’d like people to appreciate
Your hunting skill
Is not intended to thrill
It’s in your nature
As much as it is in ours
To dissect and contemplate

Lets you and me agree
On the beauty of your melody
The spritely dance in your flight
Your pretty markings black and white
Your eating habits and choice of prey
Are not a fault but simple fact
That do not detract
From my love for you

- Annie Guthrie