Imprisoned?  Yes, within a clock
And forced to hear tick-tock-tick-tock!
     I never slept by night or day
     And though I worked I got no pay.

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Go on strike?  Not likely for
I was confined behind a door.
     I was a most unhappy bird.
     My life was really quite absurd.

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Made of wood, held by a spring,
But on the hour I had my fling.
     My door flew open, out I’d fly
     And then you’d hear my plaintiff cry.

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Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo cuckoo –
This was my cry my whole life through!
     Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo –
     Shake my feathers, back I flew.

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Freedom came when things went wrong 
And never more you’ll hear my song.
      The door flew open, out I flew
      To shout my last cuckoo, cuckoo.

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My clock now rots upon the tip
With me still held within its grip.
      So goodbye now to one and all,
      I’ve gladly made my curtain call.

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Copyright on all my poems 

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* Curtain call:  Last performance.