THE BIRDS BEFORE UNCLE SAM 108 
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. ] 
