Nyger, Nyger

Feeling poetically silly, so here's a bit of doggerel Blake-ishness...

Nyger, Nyger

Nyger, nyger, black as night,
Seeds so tasty, in plain sight,
Goldfinch, redpoll, brambling too,
In the garden, down they flew.

What the feather, what the beak,
Drains the feeder thrice each week,
Beady eye and perching claw,
Flits about, demanding more.

Glossy plumaged, plump of breast,
Each finch feeds with hungry zest,
Some they squabble, some they wait,
But all eat whether first or late.

Nyger, nyger, black as night,
Seeds so tasty, in plain sight,
Goldfinch, redpoll, brambling too,
The feeder hangs there just for you.