Racketeers

Oh there are creatures in the trees
That are making quite a racket.
The decibels rise by degrees
And Monica can’t hack it.

Are they cicadas we enquire?
Perhaps a herd of cricket?
Whatever, it’s a raucous choir
And Monica can’t stick it.

The Cretans do not seem to hear
The racket they are making,
Deaf to that projected cheer
That sets the eardrums quaking.

Nothing falls out of the tree
Whene’er I try to shake it.
The noise is rising deaf’ningly
And Monica can’t take it.