The Crow

The crow sat down and thought a bit

Who is to say what laws permit

I take a thing that draws my eye

My interest is my alibi

I travel through the wicked world

My Jolly Roger is unfurled

I have the knack of nicking stuff

It makes it mine oddly enough

The owners have no fixed ideas

Their compost piles my gallerias

They value things that I don’t want

I pick their trash like a savant

I drag bits out and hawk the wares

To former owners unawares

Who ooh and aah at my concision

They’re unaware of their misprision

The stuff you want is all around

I find it laying on the ground

But when you see me overhead

You wish you had my stuff instead