I have a long commute. Sometimes I sing along to songs. Sometimes I listen to Jack Benny.

Other times, I make stuff up.

Invariably as I drive down the freeway, I’ll see a red-tailed hawk or two sternly perched on a lamppost, surveying their territory.

And their whole demeanor says, “Move along. You can’t see me. I am not here.”

Except I do see them, and that’s why I made up this song.

To the tune of “She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain“:

There’s a hawk
On the lamppost, yes there is (yes there is)

There’s a hawk
On the lamppost, yes there is (yes there is)

There’s a hawk on the lamppost,
There’s a hawk on the lamppost,
There’s a hawk on the lamppost,
Yes there is!

Hawk’s turn (slightly nasal):

I wish you wouldn’t sing that song right now
Oh, I wish you wouldn’t sing that song right now
My dinner’s down there
It’s running scared
You ran it off
But you don’t care
I wish you wouldn’t sing that song right now

Do what now?