Just a Bit Out of Tune

When I was living in the South
Near Hamlet, if you please,
I could often tell, from the wind blown bell
That hung from the Pin Oak trees.

What kind of day was just ahead?
What work, what tools I’d need?
Glancing high into the sky,
I readied myself, indeed.

But as I stood and set my face
The work ahead to begin
I heard a whistle and two chirps.
There, it was again.

At first, I thought a stranger near
Was walking slowly by,
When out of view, two whistles blew
From somewhere, rather high.

The light of day had not broke through
Still, I could clearly see.
While searching round to find that sound
A car horn blared at me!

I now, somehow, became on edge
With sounds each one anew.
A creaking door surprised me more
And I knew not, what to do!

As light began, the birds awoke
And took charge of the matter.
Then someone bold began to scold
The others with his chatter.

At last, my eyes beheld the scolder
The whistle blower too.
In front of all, he fired a saw
And others, that he knew.

I smiled, my eyes, had found him there,
Quite high so to be heard.
Directing traffic, as well as havoc,
Was this cocky, mockingbird!