Me, My B.B. Gun and the Bird

 
It was a Red Ryder B.B. Gun,
Christmas morning ready for fun.
Snow had fallen the night before,
Grabbed my gun and ran out the door.

I started off shooting at cans,
Thinking I was a real he-man.
I shot at everything in sight,
Red Ryder; spoiling for a fight.

It was so beautiful, the snow,
I was a happy kid I know.
What a great gift from old St. Nick,
Better than playing with a stick.

On the unspoiled snow I did see,
A beautiful redbird for me.
I sneaked up on it like a scout,
Had that bird in my sights, no doubt.

I pulled the trigger, the bird fell,
It made me so happy I yelled.
When I walked upon the poor bird,
It just lay there and never stirred.

Staring down at it where it bled,
I couldn't believe it was dead.
It took me a while, then I ran,
Never to hunt again, my plan.