The best nest


My eight-legged friend Webster has been watching the baby birds hatching in this warm spring / summer weather. At one point a very sprightly baby blue-tit started singing chirpily, and Webster, who happens to be fluent in the languages of most garden birds (but will admit that his lapwing is a little rusty), told me that the song went more or less as follows:

My nest is the best.
It’s the very best nest.
In fact, I suggest,
If a robin redbreast
Or a gorgeous goldcrest
Came to stay as a guest
They’d be really impressed.

As I said, as I stressed,
It’s the very best nest.
If you went on a quest
From the east to the west
You would not find a nest
So remarkably blessed,

Now if you would contest
All these feelings expressed,
Or just think I’m a pest,
Put my claims to the test,
Take a peek at my nest
You will see it’s no jest

My nest
Is just
The best.