Vm nothing but a fossil in a lithographic stone, 



And my jaws are full of teeth, and my tail is mostly bone, 



But you never would have thought that I was any other thing 



Than a bonnie little birdie, if you 'd only heard me sing! 



While my lovely mate was sitting on her eggs the livelong day, 



I would perch upon a giant fern and warble out a lay 



To cheer her weary waiting till the chicks began to cheep, 



Or to soothe our teething birdlings when they could' nt go to 



sleep. 

 It's bad enough to be a bird with such a beastly name. 

 And it's worse to be a fossil, but it's just a burning shame 



For those scientists to link us 



With that ugly Rhamphorynchus 

 Whose nasty bones are lying by my side. 



With his bat-like leathern wings. 



And his paddle-tail and things. 

 And not a blessed feather on his hide! 

 Now if you go to Berlin you may see my pretty mate 

 With feathers on her wings and tail, still sliowing in the slate, 

 Of softest green— "invisible"— but if she only knew 

 What I know of this trouble, she would certainly be blue! 



For there is'nt any doubt. 



That they mean to wipe us out, 

 Like the Dodo, and the Moa, and the Auk; 



But I'm asking to be heard 



Because I mean to be a bird. 

 Just as much as Hesperornis in the Chalk. 

 So here I rest my case, dear friends; please help me if you may! 

 And your fossilised petitioner will ever humbly pray, &c. 



Rev. Robert Wilson, D. D. 



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