At our place is a crow we named Rowdy,
Who stops by every day to say Howdy.
A noisy but well-groomed beggar and thief,
He doesn't give us a moment of grief.

With small mincing hops, he prances around
Pecking at morsels he finds on the ground.
When he spies in the grass a dried up orange peel,
He beams in delight, there's something to steal.

He grabs the orange tidbit
and lifts off to fly
To the top of an oak tree
forty feet high.
He nibbles the treat
on his perch high and dry
And shouts raucous curses
as we pass by.

Soon he's back down, poking around,
He's such fun to watch, this black feathered clown,
As we sit on our stoop at the end of the day,
Having finished our task of mowing the hay.