I'm going to kill this bird - I swear I will.
It will not give me peace, by night or day.
It is a choice of me or it to kill,
And in that case, I much prefer to slay.
Its chirping keeps me up for half the night,
And worse than that, all day it deafens me.
It seems to scream at me out of pure spite
A more annoying creature could not be.
The few times it says words I do not mind,
Even though it just repeats its name,
But when it simply squawks I want to find
A roasting pan, and treat the bird as game.
I want to break this cockatiel in half
And in the coming silence, madly laugh.
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