36 Bird Day Book 



THE WAIL OF THE QUAIL. 



THE turkey's flown, 

 The deer has gone, 

 The wild bear is no more; 

 And I and mine 

 Must fall in line 

 Like those now gone before. 



No man, I know, 

 Counts me his foe, 



Yet every man I see 

 With dog and gun, 

 For sport and gun ; 



Is enemy to me. 



My kind do harm 

 To no man's farm, 



But when we're let alone 

 We kill more worms 

 And insect germs 



Then he has ever known. 



Cloudy or clear, 



Twelve months a year, 

 We fight his crop's worst foes, 



Yet have no friend 



That will defend 

 Us in our times of woes. 



Crack-shots from town 

 Just shut us down 



And bag us by the score, 

 But he who could 

 Save if he would 



Is coward to the core. 



