January finally arrives in the vale of Asia,
Out of nowhere, an annoying sound alerts our ear.
We looked out of the window,
And saw a bird we know.
The bird is called the Koel,
And its description is easy to tell.
Black all over its body,
And red on its eyes only.
Its morning call,
(Made by its mouth and jaw)
Would awake us instantly,
And drive us crazy.
We nearly made a petition,
To shoot the Koel with some ammunition.
We were irritated by the female Koel especially,
And her call made us rest uncomfortably.
February, March, April and May passed slowly.
As slow as a tortoise can be.
Suddenly, as June is approaching,
The bird stopped its provoking.
We immediately knew the Koel had moved on,
And had gone to another patch of dirt by dawn.
We walked into the garden, huddled together,
“Good riddance to that bird!” we shouted altogether.