The eagle it soars, with such might Above the clouds in noble flight And it does, from that lofty height To the ground below cast its sight On the creatures down low it stares With scorn and derision it sneers To itself and what ever hears And with bitter contempt declares: “Shame to all those birds low flying Sparrows, finches, all those choosing Low to stay, near the ground to sing And never actually trying “For if their wings they would bother To stretch that little bit wider Set their sights a little higher And try that little bit harder “They too might know The glory and the majesty Of flying high “'Twas not without effort that I Managed to climb so very high My wings I did spread wide, and my Sights I did set high in the sky “It's through my own efforts that I know The glory and the majesty Of flying high “As for those creatures who must stay On the earth forever as they Have no feathers, no wings, no way Of flying. Pity them, I say “But it's the ground fowl I can't stand He has wings, as I understand Feathers too, but he dwells on land Not in the sky, so high and grand “Why does he choose this way to live When the blue skies he could have if His wings he would flap, and then, with Some effort, the skies would be his “And then he too might know The glory and the majesty Of flying high “But no, he makes a decision To live in humiliation And shame; an abomination To all the birds of creation “If only he tried Oh, how I loathe the ground fowl.”
