Mark Twain On the Indian Crow

a poem by Shernaz Wadia

Mark Twain On The Indian Crow
Bird of Birds! Product of reincarnations!
Work of art and deep calculations!
Comedian low, priest dissolute, fussy woman, blackguard,
With derision and mocking the human race you regard.

A scoffer, a liar, a thief, an informer,
A swindler, a spy, a rebel, a reformer!
Your opinion is ever violent and profane,
Unabashed your way, rowdy and insane!

A hypocrite by profession, a patriot for cash,
A wallower in sin, so noisy and rash.
A lawyer, a conspirator, you lecture and debate
Infidel! Irreverence you practise and propagate.

A trading politician, a busybody, a gambler,
A royalist, a democrat, and intruder, a meddler!
You are cunningly, oppressively sociable,
When there is anything good and edible.

Embodiment of all traits so damnable,
Their result is yet so very incredible,
Living, you know not what is sorrow
Nor do you ever worry for the morrow.

Ecstatically happy is your living breath,
And untroubled will be your knowing death.
Best satisfied with yourself, most cheerful,
You infatuate me, though you are not beautiful.

(Written years ago after having read Mark Twain’s essay)