Enter Stringman

While this blog takes a break as I rack up noteworthy sightings, here's a little recess.  One for fans of Metallica, as well as Gyr Crakes.

Wish I had the facilities to record it in a similar way to Mr Crakes, but sadly not. You'll have to sing it yourselves!

Enter Stringman

Sung to ''Fuel'' by Metallica.

Gimme Hume’s, gimme Gyr

Gimme that which I desire

Turn around, I see red

Was it on the tail or on the head?

I get another glimpse in the nettle bed

And I see red

I also saw black and white

More buff, more red

Flush’em man, now in flight

More black and white

Ohh, and I heard

Skulking in the bushes

Calling clear, loud and clean

 

And I heard

Sounding rather yankee

Quench my thirst for rarities

So gimme Hume’s, gimme Gyr

Gimme that which I desire

No! I Observe this bird alone

Put out news, seek out help

Pager-watchers will leave home

Yeah

Here come Twitchers, looking to thrash

Here’s Webb, Bagnall

And Mr Evans way too fast

Yeah lists way too fast, fast, fast, woh

Ohh, and it shows

Hopping from the bushes

Birders turn, stare, at me

Ohh, and I watch

Turns in my direction,

It’s a bloody Reed Bunting

So, gimme Hume’s, gimme Gyr

Gimme that which I desire

Not even a Twite

Gimme Hume’s,

Gimme Gyr

My desire

Ooh, I learn

Twitchers aren’t for messin’

They call loud, loose and clean

Then they burn

Turning my direction

‘Stringer’ they label me!

So, Gimme Hume’s, Gimme Gyr

Gimme that which I desire, yeah

Ohh, Stringer!