THE BIRDS BEFORE UNCLE SAM 103 



The Snowy Heron 

 Very much it truly grieves us 

 That complaint we have to make 

 Against many lovely ladies 

 Who do wear our wings on hats. 

 They would never kill a fine bird, 

 But they send a cruel man, 

 Send the heartless plume collector. 



He knows no mercy, 



No beauty respects, 



He heeds not our piercing cry. 



The father he kills, 



The mother he snares, 



And the helpless fledglings 



He starves in the nest. 



He slays us for our beauty 

 In weird, lone Everglades, 

 In bays and sounds of Georgia, 

 On Mexico's lagoons. 



Uncle Sam 



[Wrathfully to a large boy who is provided with a small gun and 

 represents the plume-hunter.] 



I will teach that rascal manners ! 

 Let me have that little gun ! 



[To the soldier] 

 Put him in our iron cage ! 



[The soldier leaves with the plume-hunter and returns after a 

 moment.] 



