The nightingale

There once was a tale

Of a Nightingale

With wings made of pure gold

And as the thieves cared not for the cold

They began an epic quest

They journeyed through towns

Passed people with frowns

For days and nights

Until they could see lights

Behind their closed eyes

Finally, they found

A man with a crown

Who said that they must turn back around

But they did not

And they continued on their way

They followed the stream

As a full team

And they saw a wondrous bird

"Surely that's it, we've found it hooray"

They ran after the bird, unaware of eyes upon them

They came across a house

And observed the bird, eating a mouse

"It's not The Nightingale!" cried the men

"Well, what is it then"?

"It has the eyes of the devil, slay it," one man said

But before he could move, he was struck dead

The men, confused, pulled out their weapons

And began to attack the devil bird

"Why can't we hit it"? They cried out, frustrated

And just like that, the bird disappeared

And now in its place, was a robed stranger

The stranger pulled off her coat

And everyone began to choke

This was The Nightingale, not a legend, but a reality

She spread her golden wings, and the thieves couldn't move

And so, she ran them all through