No Eagle Here

At one summer camp I met a grimy, little scout,

And thought his parents crazy to ever let him out.

He was sitting in the dirt and playing with the weeds

And had nary a thought for his own camping needs.

Yes, he was filthy from his head to his foot,

With grass stains, and dirt, and campfire soot.

He had burned one hand on a hot, propane stove,

And cut his fingers, out whittling in the grove.

And it was a sad, sad sight that he did present,

That night when he stumbled and fell into his tent.

But I hoped he would have fun from year to year,

For I was quite certain, that there was no Eagle here.

But then came a time, I can't remember just when,

That he stood up and said, "It is time to begin."

And I watched with delight as each rank he did earn,

Though, how to tie a sheepshank, did he ever really learn?

But he hiked through Philmont with his head in the cloud,

And came back from there with every right to be proud.

Though his tread wasn't always on the trail straight and narrow

He now stands in Brotherhood in the Order of the Arrow.

His hard climb was quiet, without fanfare or shout,

But his achievement is the envy of many a scout.

He now stands before you, at the threshold of Eagle,

His manner is proud, his bearing . . . almost regal.

Though he still gets a little dirty from time to time,

The mistake long ago was not his, it was mine.

So don't be fooled by what you first see so clear,

For I was wrong; there was a tall, proud Eagle here!

Composed for

Cody Davis'

Eagle Ceremony

January 10, 1999

by

Michael D. David

Assistant Scout Master

Troop 750