WHEN JOHNNY GOT HIS GUN.

Forest and Bird, Issue 24, 1 July 1931, Page 8

WHEN JOHNNY GOT HIS GUN.

—Will Lawson.

(BUSH TRAGEDY.)

The forest ways were peaceful Till Johnny got his gun, For Johnny, from the city, Thought killing birds was fun. He knew not tit from tui, Nor kereru from game — To simple, city Johnny All wild birds looked the same.

The little wrens were happy Till Johnny came along, They flirted round the bushmen And sang them all a song; The bell-birds never worried From early dawn till dark— The saddle-backs called gaily, The swamplands loved the lark. ’Twas in the morning’s glory That Johnny started in To make the bush-ways gory And brand his soul with sin. The kakas saw him coming, For wary birds are they; The wild hawks saw in Johnny A kindred bird of prey.

He shot a shining cuckoo Which came from overseas; He killed a bush-canary That wooed him from the trees, And Johnny’s heart was joyful, And Johnny’s soul was glad. He loved the pretty, trustful, And friendly ways they had. It made the shooting easy — He never had to try To stalk them or be clever, He simply made them die. Gay kingfishers and robins, Bright parrakeets and quail; The wekas were dead easy, He never knew them fail.

At last the bush got angry, And Tane heard it pray To him that silly Johnny Be spirited away. Then Tane shook the mountains And made the tempest blow To waken up Old. Moa Who died so long ago. When Johnny met Old Moa, Old Moa saw him first, And of the short encounter Poor Johnny got the worst. Perhaps he’s shooting devils Or something just as brave To-day; but all the bush birds Sing gladly o’er his grave.