The woodpecker, sometimes called a peckerwood,
He lives in the trees in his neighborhood;
He pecks on his chimney that is made of steel,
Trying to build a house, but he never will.
Or, could he like the way his "pecker" sounds,
Like a drummer in a Rag Band making the town.
He's always up early by the light of day,
Just pecking away, just pecking away.
You'll find him often way up in a tree;
He's asleep as busy as he can be.
He's digging a hole for his lady friend;
He thinks they call her a "peckerwood hen"
He lives in a hole in a hollow tree;
To watch him peck is something to see.
Like the rapid firing of an automatic gun,
With the chips aflying, he makes it look like fun.
There are birds aplenty in his neighborhood,
But none so exciting as a peckerwood.
He eats from his feeder, sometimes upside down;
Some more of his antics, acting like a clown.