Think I'll go down to Malibu Lagoon,
wade around in the water awhile,
keep my eye out for an Arctic Loon,
with a green patch under his smile.
My feet are freezin' but the birding's hot –
maybe see a Ruff or maybe Knot –
but if I don't I'll be back soon,
and that's called birding with style.
But lookin' through my nockies ain't as good as it seems,
I've been a-birdin' much too long;
keep on wishin' for a lifer and pishin' in my dreams,
and I can tell every bird by its song.
I got a high-powered scope
but not much hope
Of addin' species to the list unless I smoke a lotta dope;
so countin' in the aviary's one of my schemes:
I've been a-birding much too long.
I got yardlists and yearlists and lists from a plane,
and there ain't no end in sight.
Guess I'll keep on listin' till I go insane,
till my brain finally gives up the fight.
I'll be countin' those rubberized hooty owls,
and tickin' the chickens off as Jungle Fowls –
and they'll find me out on the Carrizo Plain,
tryin' to fly an Everglades Kite!
Tryin' to fly an Everglades –
take away my razorblades –
fly an Everglades Kite!