The Magpie Butcher

Bountiful rows of prey are lined up on the stand,

Taken from nature and sold without a brand.

Already cut up and skewered on thin twigs

And laid out together so one must not dig.

A lassie walks up and tries to barter for a piece,

But the price is high, 5 pence at least.

Cunning eyes, glowing with an unnatural red,

Emerges with a new catch, a rat now dead.

A curved knife tears through the raw meat,

Voracious enough to make any bystander retreat,

Until it finally stops and makes a decision,

Before flying away with great precision.