council of the crows

..and every eve come 6:16 we meet and sip our cricket tea,
whilst hatching honey schemes a'foul to overthrow the bumble queen.
As cackle beaks cacaw in chatter,
atop this owling hollowed oak,
her branches weep and blackness shrieks
out shadows wrapped in overcoats.
Tis we the council of the crows!!
discussing all important matters, cracking seeds, neckbacking meats and laughing at the clowns below.
They hear we mocking after,  they
but dare not cast a lonesome stone,
for what to we is only laughter, to groundlings sounds of cold forbode. 
And so beneath they cower past us, creeping down in shoulder fold as muckstuck, bleeting, fleece enshrouded, beasts endowed with cloven toes would creep if while they roam in pasture, hear the growl of howlers close, but having haven't yet have seen the prowlers, keep from bounds of gross expose.