Well, he flies like he's been drinkin'
An' his rudder's out of whack.
Kind of waffles 'crost the valley
Then teeter totters back.

Tuxedoed up plumb elegant,
In white and shiny black,
Mr. Magpie dines, fastidious,
On any roadkill snack.

On deepwoods bits of carrion
He'll strut and preen and brag
And put away a gourment feast
That'd make a maggot gag.

But while most folks revile him
As a noisy garbage eater
He's got this great redeming trait:
He leaves the place some neater.


From Men of the Open Range (Buglin’ Bull Press, 1993).
Used here with permission.