King Crow

Once there was a Crow.
Now he was the king of all birds.
Now as you all may know.
This is the story of the Old Crow King.

The king of birds looked all around.
From his perch above the ground.
He could see all things near and far.
Yes he would have his eye on you wherever you are.

Now the old crow sat and saw all was good.
All other birds were acting how they should.
Now all except the robin who was up to no good.

Now this robin was just like the rest,
except of course the color of red on his chest.
For this robin his chest was as red as red can be.
Even darker than the rumored red sea.
The Robin went and saw all the things that he could see.
Then came back deciding that the bird in charge should be none other than he.

The Robin of crimson decided he should be king.
Be a king so all would hear him in the early morning sing.
So naturally he challenged the Crow.

Oh they fought in a battle of voice.
The Crimson robin was winning of course,
While slowly, ever so slowly, the Crow's voice grew hoarse.

Eventually the Crow had enough.
He jammed his beak into that bright red chest.
The Robin of Crimson began to bleed,
The Robin fell back down to the earth.
The Crow simply cawed and cackled with merry girth.

As the robin lay down and the rest of the red seeped out.
The Crow stood above him, stiff and stout.
The red was all gone, nothing of color only white.
The Crow king left the newborn dove as he began to take flight.

And that children is why the dove stands for peace.
Because that new white dove knows,
to not fall any more than violence must cease.