Gurd the third

He ate his lunch, as I have said, Comprising of a loaf of bread, While working out how he could stretch Three groats and what his horse might fetch To last him through another week Of bare existence, so to speak.

As thus he sat and did his sums Some birds hopped up and pecked the crumbs.

He watched them with a jaundiced eye; Incuriously he wondered why No matter where he went, alack, Something was always on his back.

Among the flock, two mynah birds Not only pecked but read the words Upon his breastplate lightly scratched Above the place where it was patched.

The birds disguised an instant start And casually drew apart, Leaving the other birds still there To eat the poor Knight’s wholesome fare, Then surreptitiously took wing And hurried off to tell the King.

One interjects a few brief words In order to explain these birds.

They were in an elitist Corps Originally recruited for Such duties for the madding crowd Too secret to be said aloud.

As each new entrant passed his course And took up duties with the force, Consecutively each one bore A “Mynah Number” in the Corps, Preserving his identity In deep anonyminity.

EG., the first two entrants, who Were Mynah One and Mynah Two. For every Mynah there occurred A clutch of Secretary Birds With offices and desks and files And memoranda, codes and piles Of paper passing here and there And up and down and everywhere, Continuously very much Preserving secrecy and such.

The Secretary Bird IC, Reported to the Ministry, ‘Nomenclature, re Mynah Corps, I recommend it would be more Efficient if you were to give