The Race

The Race

The crow to the owl:

'Giddayyup you slow-coach owl,

we have a race to win, faster...'

urged the jockey to his steed.

'Many a times I have urged you

not to feast before a sprint,

to my words you pay no heed.'

The owl to the crow:

''Cease your cawing you craven crow,

with eye just one, you see not,

crossing the finish line, we succeed.'

The race done

The crow on the victory block,

stands with the trophy held aloft,

squawking gaily, ‘we did it, we did it.’

The rosette-sporting owl in the barn,

hoots gleefully, ‘I knew it, we would do it;

timorous bird, I told you so, I told you so.’

This is the tale of the owl and the crow,

winning the sport, an aerial steeplechase,  

at the derby of the feathered folks.