Cuckoo, Cuckoo! (Children)

There lives inside my cuckoo clock a feisty cuckoo named Tic-toc. We bought the wooden enchilada when coming from the autostrada and entering the Fatherland. The makers of the clocks reside in the Black Forest, where a guide is used for navigation reasons clocks can be bought in all the seasons. We chose the biggest on the shelves (they all are made by German elves) , and shipped the thing so it would get home in one piece, we did not fret. It took the best part of a day to hang the clock so it would stay. The biggest, cleanest strongest screw was found and used, I'm telling you it was a job but in the end a visiting (and nosy) friend remarked that he had never seen a clock like it, and he was keen to also travel overseas to get himself, likewise a piece. We went to bed that night content but when at dawn my lady went into the kitchen to prepare the coffee she received a scare. There on the stove sat a small bird and mumbled just a single word. It was a word that we had heard but never from a little bird. Heimweh he said, which is the same as homesickness, which is a shame because it leads to deep depression and will require shrinko sessions. My spouse who tends to jump the gun since being married to a Hun went to the cellar just in case, turned off the gas for the whole place. She figured that he would not know too many other ways to go. And no one has observed a bird (perhaps it has, somewhere occurred) to shoot himself or hang by rope so we continued to have hope. When I arose and then was told I felt my bones, (I'm getting old) , and really wasn't in the mood to be delayed, I needed food. So I resorted to the tactic that can for birds be prophylactic. I asked him why he'd left his home and who allowed him here to roam. His facial feathers sagged right then 'I realise I'm not Big Ben, but in the Forest with the elves all little birds amuse themselves, but if for you it's a disaster I say to you, my treasured Master, you make the laws and all the rules for even us Black Forest Fools.' It took six weeks to have him happy, he grew on us, the little chappie. The deal between the bird and me was that he could fly out to see the world inside our little home he was allowed to freely roam but when the time came to announce the hour he would quickly bounce back in to his well-furnished place spruce up his wrinkled cuckoo face and do what he was born to do it is to sing cuckoo, cuckoo.