A Happy Migrant

He won't be going back to the field by the high wood by the hill And walk along by the old stream whose tongue is never still He is happy in this tropical town of sun shine every day And he doesn't pine for what has been and brown hills far away He arrived here a decade ago when he had turned nineteen A young man from a distant Land to the ways of the World green He has been with many women since and is having a good time And only two or three years at the most now beyond his life's prime. The green figbird in the tropical sun chirps on the tall gum tree And the flying foxes roost upside down on the acacias by the sea Whilst on the beach sunbathers lay in the warm evening sun Thousands of miles from the northern shore where his journey south begun. He loves the warmer climate here and he is here for the long stay And he doesn't pine for the old hills and the woods and fields far away He goes down to the sea and swims after work every day And why should I ever wish to leave the good life here he say. A happy migrant living far south of his old Homeland shore And he may not return to where he came from anymore The lorikeets are chirping on the flowering banksia trees And the butcherbirds are piping in the freshening coastal breeze.