The Tui Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

The Tui chortles mid the trees
With cheerily yodelled ease -
A ruffian with a vicar's collar
He fluffs it up, and then lets holler:


'ck 'uk gerk garr quolla!


He flits among the flaxes
To extract the nectary waxes
And lodges where he pleases
To dodge refractory squeezes


'ck 'uk gerk garr quolla!


Tuis never sing the Blues
And almost always come in twos
One plus Tui rare makes three
Oh my, oh boy, how could that be?


'ck 'uk gerk garr quolla!