John James Audobon

Some men live for warlike deeds,

Some for women’s words.

John James

Lived to look at birds.

Pretty birds and funny birds,

All our native

From the little cedar

To the Great Horned Owl.

Let the wind blow hot or cold,

Let it rain or snow,

Everywhere the birds

Audubon would go.

Scrambling through a wilderness,

Floating down a stream,

All around

In a feathered dream.

Thirty years of traveling,

Pockets often bare,(Lucy Bakewell

Patched them up with care).

Followed grebe and meadowlark,

Saw them sing and splash.(Lucy Bakewell

Somehow raised the cash).

Drew them all the way they

In their habitats.(Lucy Bakewell

Sometimes wondered “Cats?”)Colored them and printed

In a giant book,“Birds of North America”—All the world said, “Look!”Gave him medals and degrees,

Called him noble names,—Lucy Bakewell

Kissed her queer John James.