The Flamingos are Coming

The flamingos are coming

They're angry and cross

I'd better start running

Or be turned into sauce

They haven't been fed

For a day at the most

But when flamingos are hungry

They'll see you as toast

Their beaks will be gaping

Their claws will be sharp

If they happen to bite you

It will leave a scar

The flamingos are coming

Pink feathers are flared

I can hear their screeching

If only I cared!

Oh what's this? They've stopped now

They're rabid no longer

But though they've found food

They'll be back by tomorrow.