Meadow Lark has a flute-like voice, Sings a song that’s very choice; Builds his nest low, near the ground, With woven grasses arched around.
Black, solemn-looking Mr. Crow Steals the good farmer’s corn, you know; If you ask why he breaks the laws, He answers, wisely: “Caws, caws, caws.”
Friendly little Chickadee Is just as cunning as can be; Upon your window-sill he ’ll come And thank you kindly for a crumb.
Cardinal Bird wears vivid red, He’s very amiable, ’tis said; He likes fresh fruits and seeds to eat And has a song that’s very sweet.
Magpie’s a gossip—that’s the truth— A naughty, disobedient youth; We must not judge him, but suppose He does the very best he knows.
Great Blue Heron likes to fly, And so he builds his house up high, Way in the tops of tallest trees Where he lives, happy as you please.
Bob-o-link, among the clover, Tells his name over and over; He doesn’t stay North very long And when he goes we miss his song.
Indigo Bunting comes in May, Saying cheerfully: “I’m here to stay.” He’s a nice, friendly little thing, Willing at any time to sing.
Eagle has piercing yellow eyes, He’s very strong and very wise; He’s king and master over all The other birds, both great and small.
Turkey Buzzard, on the wing, Is a most graceful-looking thing; Like scavengers, who come each day, He does much good in his own way.
Vermilion Flycatcher’s a beauty, You’ll always find him right on duty; Searches for food early and late, Bringing it to his pink-clothed mate.
Yellow Warbler comes to stay Along about the first of May; He likes to live by pond or rill And builds his nest with care and skill.
Curlew runs along the shore, To him, perhaps, it’s like a floor; Whistle, and he will answer you Something like this: “Kerloo, Kerloo.”
Sir Partridge is a drummer bold, You’ll hear him drum when days are cold. He says the nicest things to eat Are red thorn apples, ripe and sweet.
The Snowy Heron’s used to be A very fine, large family; I tell you this with great regret: Men hunt the birds their plumes to get.
Said King-Fisher: "The choicest dish I know of is a fresh caught fish; I love to fish, and, if you’ll wait, I’ll get you some—I need no bait.”
Brown Thrasher is a cheerful bird, His sweet, clear carol may be heard All through the pleasant summer day; We’re sorry when he goes away.