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The cuckoo is a dove-sized bird
     Who differs from the rest.
The mother cuckoo lays her eggs
     In someone else’s nest.

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     'Cuckoo', cries mother from the tree,
         'Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo -
     The joy of all my motherhood,
         I gladly leave with you.'

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The cuckoo is a wicked bird - 
     Her work she leaves for others.
Her baby chick now shares its nest
    With stepsisters and brothers.

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     'Cuckoo,' cries mother from the tree;
          'Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo -
     The joy of all my motherhood,
          I gladly leave with you.'

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The cuckoo is a lazy bird 
     And watches with a smirk -
Whilst some poor bird, quite unaware,
      Is doing all her work.

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     'Cuckoo,' cries mother from the tree;
          'Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo -
     The joy of all my motherhood,
           I gladly leave with you.'

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The baby cuckoo screams for food 
     With a loud and plaintiff cry
And the smaller birds within the nest
     Are sadly left to die.

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     'Cuckoo,' cries mother from the tree;
          'Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo -
     When, next year, you return with me,
           You’ll do the same thing too.'

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Copyright on all my poems

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The Cuckoo - RSPB

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