Birdsland

Old Birsdsland has never looked greener as beautiful as I have seen And in the high woods of South Belgrave the bell miners in their cloaks of green Are chirping all day on faded gums that suffer of dieback decay But their's just a small patch of woodland and Nature works in a strange way. The last time that I was in Birdsland I walked the paths around the lakes To the loud quacks of the female black ducks and the softer quacks of feral drakes On a beautiful evening of sunshine in November towards the end of Spring And Nature she wore her green beauty and Nature's a beautiful thing. The white coackatoos they were calling their hoarse voices one cannot mistake On the high gums that grow by the old creek they roost every night and at daybreak They fly off in flocks in search of food and return again at close of day And they don't fly far distant from Birdsland and Birdsland their home one might say. The crimson and eastern rosellas in Birdsland have never been rare And in the wood the white backed magpie pipes his beautiful and familiar air, The blue wrens and the red browed finches, the kookaburra, butcherbird and crow All live in the woods around Birdsland and them by their voices one know. Duck, moorhen, coot and eastern swamphen along with feral geese live on the lake And cormorant and little grebe the shy tiny divers them one never ought to mistake And close to the pathways by their diggings you know where echidna have been This creature also known as the spiny ant eater in Birdsland I often have seen. And though I now live far distant from Birdsland fond memories of it I retain And the next time I am in South Belgrave I will walk around the lakes again And feel happy in Nature's garden in a place that is still dear to my heart A place that I still have great love for though distance now keeps us apart.