The Old Lady Who Lived Up A Tree

A religious old lady made her home in a tree
(Felt closer to heaven at that height you see.)
Took a bible, a cat and her old rocking chair,
To live in her nest 40 feet in the air

The first night by habit she put out the cat
And vaguely remarked on the loud, mewling splat,
"That's rather a pity, I'm sad that it's gone,
But eight lives it's had, and there goes the last one."

The birds grew to love her and took it in turns,
To feed her on insects and fat, juicy worms.
Fruit pips and beetles of succulent flavour,
All manner of tit-bits they brought her to savour.

And she in her turn, read from the Good Book
To the sparrow, the robin, the blackbird, the rook,
And each Sunday evening as daylight grew dim,
They'd perch in the branches and whistle a hymn.

Now was it her diet or was it the hymns?
That made her grow feathers and bright, coloured wings.
Birds gathered around to witness the sight,
Of the pious old lady's first venture in flight.

She picked up her bible and murmured a prayer,
Unfolded her wings and took off in the air,
But the Lord didn't listen, or forgot His great love,
And she shot down to earth without help from above.

She sped past some starlings who stared at her plight,
Her wings flapping madly, and bible clutched tight.
"Toowit" said an owl, and "Toowoo" said it's mate
As she hurtled past to an ominious fate.

I know what you're thinking - a miracle's due,
From the Man At The Top, but this really won't do.
I'm sorry to say that she had to go SPLAT!!!
Right on the spot where she'd dropped her old cat.

And the moral to this, (if moral one sees)
Is that wings are for birds, and birds are for trees,
Where pious old ladies should never be found,
For it really is best if they stay on the ground.