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I hear the sound of gulls, you say,
the music of the sea!
They’re circling above the bay
and singing - just for me.

But have you seen their eyes, I scream,
their fiendish, flaming eyes?
They see all things you think or dream -
they’re Satan’s stinking spies.

And what about their dripping beaks?
Their evil laughs? Their claws?
They rip your soul out through your cheeks
to drop at Hades’ doors.

They dump their filth on cars and hair,
I hiss though trembling lips,
and, worst of all, the hell-spawn dare
to dive and steal your chips.


Herring gull looking slightly right on outdoor cafe table