The seagulls are doing their dance again – Wings clasped to their sides, they stare up the street.
Up and down, up and down, go their knobbly pink knees;
And boom-diddy-boom! drum their heavy webbed feet.
“Hey!” whisper the worms in the dry, blackened earth.
“Can you hear the rain fall – pitter-pat! Pitter-pat?
Let's get some of that – let's hurry! Let's go!”
And they wriggle on up to the rat-a-tat-tat!
While over their heads, the dancers pound on;
Their golden beaks shine in the midsummer heat – Intent on their dance, in a world of their own;
And boom-diddy-boom! go their heavy flat feet.
“Come on!”“ call the worms. “It's raining up there!
There'll be rich, fruity earth – we'll have it for tea.”
Out pop their heads in the shimmering air.
Dart! Snap! and swallow! How wrong can you be?