Once upon a Central Oregon time,
In a district whose name starts with a Prine.
Two little botanists went out in the field,
Eager to see what the day might yet yield.
They came to a hill so steep and so high,
The top of it almost seemed to touch sky.
But they hoped there was something growing up there,
So they shouldered their gear with nary a care.
The climb it was hot, rocky and steep,
At times it seemed that the outlook was bleak.
But as they came over the line of the ridge,
The sight that they saw caused their jaws to unhinge.
Lupin!
Lupin!
Lupin for days,
Lupin fading into the spring haze.
Lupin and paintbrush,
Lupin and phlox,
Growing above all these honkin big rocks.
They collected their vouchers then headed down,
Lighthearted and gleeful they drove back to town.