Hello! Today’s poem is also a song, I threw some chords at it and there’s a folk version and a punk version. When I figure out how to play guitar and sing at the same time, I’ll do a video!

The Swan Song

I met a swan the other day

I fed him some stale bread

He lapped it up, he loved it

“That’s very good” he said

But when I ran out the mighty swan

Got angry and lost his calm

“You better have some more” he said

“Or I’ll break your flaming arm”

 

Now I’d heard that swans could do such things

By folk who swore on their lives

But I never thought that these were true

Just tales from dear old wives

“So you’re the one I’ve heard about

“From people all over town?

“Well I’m sorry, I don’t have anymore”

And with that I turned around

 

But then the little birdie brat

Jumped up and punched my face

Who on earth did he think he was?

Did he think he owned the place?

“Now listen here” I told him

“I will not stand for that.

“If you have another swing

I’ll knock you down and flat”

 

He didn’t listen and flew again

This time he kicked my shin

And then somehow, in the same move

He uppercut my chin

I stumbled backwards and tripped up

I nearly came to harm

He stood upon my wrist and shouted

“And now I’ll break your arm!”

 

Not today, I told myself

And threw gravel in his eyes

“You dirty git!” the swan did yell

But it was the start of his demise

I got back up, straight to my feet

And put him in a head-lock

“I’ll teach you not to lash out again

“When someone’s out of bread-stock”

 

I dragged him through the car park

Across the road to the chippy

I wrestled him into the kitchen

By now he wasn’t so lippy

He tried to wriggle out of it

He could sense that something grim

Was coming soon and he was right

I had a plan for him

 

I rammed him into a microwave

And closed the door and said

“Do you wanna become a soul artist?”

But the swan just shook his head

“What are you gonna do with me?”

He asked, with a shake and quiver

“I’m gonna turn the microwave on, you punk

And watch ‘til your bill withers”


For the record, I don’t endorse violence against swans, but he started it.

I’d like to let you into a bit about how I came up with this poem. I was thinking about how they say a swan can break a person’s arm but I’ve never met anyone who has had their arm broken by a swan. Is it true? Where’s the evidence? Then I thought what would you be doing to get in a position where a swan would break your arm? Probably in a fight, but why would a swan fight with you?

After toying around with a few ideas I decided that a swan could get annoyed after not being fed enough, he might get angry and attack you, so running out of bread during feeding sounded logical. Make the swan a cocky hard-nut (timid creatures don’t break people’s arms do they?) and have him start a fight.

But how do I finish it? Who should win? This is when I remembered one of my favourite jokes of all time and decided that the swan would come out as the loser.

And there you have it, that’s how my mind works and in the space of about half an hour, a poem is born!

Thanks for reading

Liam