The Grey Fantail

The bushmen call me "Cranky Fan,"
   Because my strange erratic flight
Seems to uncomprehending man
   Sign of a wit not over-bright;
But nimble wit and nimble wing
   Uphold me in the trade I ply
Of ever-restless foraging --
   Excuse me -- there's another fly!
 
A tireless ball of buff and grey;
   White-shafted, my important tail
Guides me on my unstable way
   When stronger aviators fail;
Now right rise up, now upside down,
   Now tumbling crazily from high,
I ape the antics of a clown --
   Whoop! -- and that's another fly!
 
'Tis thus my daily fare I earn
   By nimble trick of wit and wing;
And, when my nestlings so would learn,
   A clothes-line is a handy thing.
And that is why we're sitting now,
   Tho' not for long, my brood and I,
That they may be instructed how --
   Whoop! -- and that's another fly!
 
I loop the loop with careless ease,
   Now in a tail-spin watch me fall;
Yet, spite these eccentricities
   I am the friendliest bird of all.
Upon your shoulder, lordly man,
   I pause as I go flitting by.
Spare a kind word for Cranky Fan --
   Whoop! -- and that's another fly!