John Mastodon put trousers on
and walked out to be heard,
Along the road he deftly strode
into a cage of birds.

All in their cage, all full of rage,
the birds did prattle on,
Their nonsense tweets, thoughts incomplete,
perplexed John Mastodon.

"Why do you squawk when you could talk?"
asked John so curious,
But when they heard his idle words
the birds were furious.

The king of birds so quickly heard
and on poor John descended,
"Get out," said he with childish glee,
John Mastodon: suspended.