Monday, 24 December 2012


In Northern Europe, the Robin has become a symbol of Christmas. But these aggressive little buggers don't quite represent the sentiment of the season for me.

Did you know that male robins are so protective of their territory, that they'll fight to the death, not just with other robins, but with any other little birds that try to muscle in on their turf? In fact, up to 10% of adult robin deaths are as a result of these battles! Hardly 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen', that.

Imagine what a robin could do to a person, if it thought it could get away with it?


The Robin Red Breast wears his colours on his chest
But it's no cummerbund or cravat.
It's the colours of his gang that, from his throat, do hang,
Signifying that he murdered next door's cat.

He downs cans of Special Brew and has a few obscene tattoos –
For fun, he drinks whole bottles of Night Nurse.
He may seem a sweet delight, but I once saw him start a fight
With a squirrel and the squirrel came off worse.

Watch the glint within his eye as he sees you walking by,
He wants to ambush and eviscerate you.
He sings a merry tune, but it's the soundtrack to your doom.
There's no limit to the bile with which he hates you.

As you're too big to take down, he simply hangs around,
Brooding on his blood lust and bad luck.
We've mistaken all of this, for avian friendliness
But be sure, if he could, he'd fuck you up.

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