At a time when dark and dismal events
Gather around your backyard fence,
And surround your garden wall like crows in mourning,
Engaging in a flapping of their wings in warning,
You can be sure they do not come to sing,
But to await the perfect time
To peck your hands for whatever joy you bring.
So pretend their presence there will never matter.
Take care not to scatter breadcrumbs of self pity,
That may nourish even one black-hearted knave,
For once you feed misfortune's agents,
They'll wait forever for your saddest days,
And force you to find, yet one more
Morsel of self pity ever hence!