Boy Oh, a saucy bird is the bold blue jay

That dwells among the bushes.

From early morn ’til the close of day,

Its cracked voice never hushes.

From the evergreen to the maple tree,

It ever frisks and gambols,

And builds home and nest for its family

Among the briars and brambles.

And as it flits in the darkened wood,

Unearthly sounds, it utters.

And as it toils for its daily food,

It constantly scolds and mutters.

No matter how cold is the wintry blast,

How hot are days of summer,

The blue jay can talk as loudly and fast,

As a sleek, dry goods “Drummer”.

When summer unfolds its sultry breeze,

And days grow mild and warmer,

The blue jay forsakes his home in the trees,

And scolds the honest farmer.

While it is pilfering the farmer’s corn,

’Twill screech, and roar and prattle.

It can make more noise than a big tin horn

Or a herd of hungry cattle.

It can raise its voice to a higher key,

Than the lordly Shanghai rooster,

Or a “Lumber Jack”, when he’s on a spree,

Or a Florida, hot “Booster”.

How proudly it waggles its crested poll,

And preens its tinted feathers,

When it sits on a bush, a tree or a knoll,

In most any kind of weathers.

The blue jay’s plaintive yells and doleful cries,

Are neither songs nor sonnets.

Its tinted feathers, it leaves when it dies,

To deck some Lady’s bonnets.