Unsung Verses: Corvids

That'll be the crow family to you

A few years ago, life threw one of those days at me - the kind that gnaws at your resolve, where walking out of work feels like a very real, very looming option.

Instead, I drove out to Avebury.

I wandered the Henge slowly, circling the stones, trying to quiet the storm in my chest. As the sun dipped and the shadows began to stretch, I found myself in the old churchyard, watching crows settle in the trees to roost.

And as I watched, this arrived - unceremoniously, all at once. Not sure if it’s a bit McGoughesque, (or maybe even a little Ayres-ish). Either way, I always hear it in my head in a strong West Country accent and imagine a wizened old man leaning on a lychgate, chewing a piece of straw, reciting it to anyone who’ll listen.

But it came to stay. And its quirkiness has always made it one of my favourites.

Corvids

Talk to the Crows,
‘Cos the Crows knows,
The ebbs an’ flows.
An’ the reason why, the north wind blows,
They knows if the path you chose,
Is a way to see, how the future grows –
If it’s bright an’ glows,
Or if it’s cold an’ snows.
They’ll tell, (if you ask), how well the roses grows,
An’ where the river goes.
If you watch ’em close, they often shows,
If the route ahead is open or closed,
An’ where hazards lie, on clearer roads.
Talk to the Crows,
‘Cos the Crows knows…

Take a second look,
At the big black Rook.
He knows all the tricks,
(He wrote the book).
He knows why, the ground was shook,
When the wind was howlin’,
An’ the lightnin’ struck.
An’ what’s more,
He don’t give a fuck,
He’ll just cock a snook,
An’ for a fool you’ll be took.
But he also knows,
How t’make ‘is own luck.
An’ that’s a talent for sure,
When you’re lost or stuck.
So, take a second look,
At the big, black Rook.

Then next, you’ll find ‘im – ol’ Jackdaws,
He’s the one’ll spot all your foibles an’ flaws,
(Try though you might, to bury ’em for sure),
But fret not my friend, ’cause through ‘is cussin’ an’ caws,
He’s just trying to mend you an’ ‘elp you to restore,
All the bits that’re missin’ (or packed up in straw),
An’ the bits what got wounded in all a’ya wars.
He’ll make you more whole, an’ ready for more.
An’ when you look back, you’re better’n before.
So look out an’ welcome ‘im – ol’ Jackdaws.

An’ best not forget,
The speckled Jay.
She’s the one’ll teach you,
Dance, song and play.
She’ll contrast all the beauty,
Twixt night an’ day.
Time’ll lose its meanin’
And you’ll wish only to stay.
But then she’ll show you that’s folly,
And send you on your way.
She’ll leave you wiser and kinder,
(Least that’s what they say.)
You’ll never forget her,
To return you’ll always pray,
So best not forget,
The speckled Jay.

Then there’s the much under-rated common Chough,
(Though their ways are sometimes abrupt and gruff).
They’ll turn up for you when times get tough.
Or you’re feelin’ forlorn when you’ve ‘ad enough.
They’ll show you, you’re made of sterner stuff,
But don’t disrespect ’em or they’re off in a huff,
(Best treat ’em kindly, an’ show ’em some love).
So don’t under-rate the common Chough.

An’ don’t you dare try to lie,
To the wise Magpie.
Cos he’ll see right through you,
No matter what you try.
He’s canny an’ clever,
An’ not at all shy.
When it comes to the truth,
He’s got quite the eye.
An’ if he catches you out, off he’s sure to fly,
An’ you’ll have lost a wily, cunning ally.
So, never try to lie,
To the wise Magpie.

Last (but not least),
Is the mighty Raven.
She guards the roads,
(If I’m not mistaken).
She’s the one who can guide you to your personal heaven,
An’ on the way, can show all the shelters an’ havens.
An’ knows all the follies that others ‘ave maken,
(An’ a few of the wrong roads they also ‘ave taken)
So heed the word,
Of the mighty Raven.

28 March 2016