Wild Goose migration

There was a time it was a novelty
to see unmigrated wild geese hunker down.
Of course, around picked cornfield, flowing stream,
the wonder caught you more than in the town.

How picturesque, along browned grass and rushes,
their distinctive brown-black patterns and their calls,
milling among the reeds and snowy bushes.
Who would believe their excess would apall?

Fly south, oh lofty bird;It's getting late;
your presence with us cannot last for long.
We allowed you to over populate;
Now we've come to sing another song.

We need to have our walks pristine and neat,
the grass we prize, attractive and all green,
that we know where ever we place our feet
will be respectable, sanitary, clean.

Oh, you, who, soaring, grace the autumn sky,
with call of wildness, dreams of freedom too.
We bid you fond adieu; please rise and fly.
Trust me; the south will surely welcome you.