Doctor P, my cockatoo
Despises birds who bill and coo.
Long he’s set his heart upon a
Duet with a prima-donna.
Some composers he dislikes,
Such as Grieg and Doctor Dykes.
Very fond is he of Handel.
Sometimes from the Bechstein grand’ll
Float a hollow laugh from Carmen.
(Once he tried the Dresden Amen . . . )
What a bird! O what a bird!
Once in May I swear I heard
Fragments from die Fledermaus
Ringing wildly through the house.
‘Over the hills and far away’
Is, of course, his favourite lay;
This he sings with perfect ease,
Con brio, and in many keys.
‘Rallentando! Rallentando!’
Once I cried, when Elgar’s ‘Land o’
Hope and Glory’ he was singing,
Quavers into crotchets flinging.
I taught him all the simpler airs —
‘It is enough . . . ’A chant by Nares;
‘Comfort ye . . .’ and ‘Daisy, Daisy . . .’
A Gloria by Pergolesi.
Doctor Pepusch most detests
The ignorant, facetious pests
Who call him ‘Pretty Polly’. Once
He nipped a Rural Dean from Hunts
Who thus addressed him. (Cockatoos’
Contempt for parrots never lose).
Green he is; and underneath
Shades of pumice, puce and heath.
Black his bill and blue his crest,
Splendid creature, grandly dressed!
Doctor P! Doctor P!
How you worked for your degree!
Sleep now, birdie; done the day . . .
‘Over the hills and far away . . .’
There beyond the last horizon
One day you shall feast your eyes on
Groves of orange, where the beams
Of sun exotic flush the streams.
Only you could ever cope
With Yellowshank and Phalarope,
With Hoopoe, Knot and Sanderling,
And other fowls that cannot sing.
Yes, dear birdie, you shall be
Choirmaster to the company
Of all the birds on every tree–
Doctor P! Doctor P!