My house is loftier than yours.
A higher perch, free from mud.
I fluffed up my backyard.
More toys. More gnomes. No crud.
Fresh food delivered daily.
(Your bar-ba-que pit’s a dud.)
Keep your dogs off my lawn!
Or there will be pooch blood!
What’s that screech? Your garage band?
You think you’re some rock stud?
You’re head-bobbing and dancing.
You’ll go down with a thud.
You preen and raise your wings.
I’ll ruffle your feathers– then flood
your zone with HOA law suits.
Who do you think you are, Bud?
A budgie?
