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Oh, these ragged wings |
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Oh, these papery things |
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Ah but strong am I |
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I can fly and fly |
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I'm the king, am I |
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Earthly winds I ride for miles and miles |
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I've been biding time |
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At the over-wintering site |
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Where the firs are fine |
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And the mountains high |
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The winter months we like |
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This habitat for us is perfectly designed |
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Lepidopterists are pleased |
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Know it took them years to find me |
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In nineteen seventy-five |
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Discovery arrived |
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In Mexico the prize |
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This is where we hide |
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But still you wonder why |
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We are so dramatically inclined |
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To live this migratory life |
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Lives like ours rely |
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On seasonal plants which die |
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And soil gets too dry |
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And sunlight does grow nigh |
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We travel 'til we find |
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A host by which our darling hatchlings will survive |
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A green tender shoot |
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Asclepiads bloom |
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Fragrant firework |
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Cardenolides usurp |
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Aposematics work |
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Assiduously we searched |
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And though it won't be me |
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My progeny will surely see |
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Their return to the prairies |
