Grey

 

They say that you’re a tree rat

And a nasty Yank at that.

They say that you eat baby birds

They said it as they spat.

 

They say you chased out us nice reds.

And ruined all the flower beds.

They say you kill the greenwood sward.

They say your presence dreads.

 

They say you should be shot on sight,

And that you haven’t any right.

They say you’re better in a stew.

They said you’ll lose the fight.

 

Who do you think they’re kidding?

We’re pretty and we’re smart.

Just hide your nuts you losers.

Us greys are here. Depart.