Grey Currawong

I hear them in the woodland every day Those birds with yellow eyes in cloaks of gray No matter what the weather like they sing Their bell like notes in wooded hillside ring. The young girl to her mother run to say 'Mum' what bird sing in wood across the way? I've seldom seen them know them by their song Her mother answers those 'grey currawong'. They build their stick made nest on higher tree Lay two blotched eggs on some occasions three Their offsprings leave the nest in latter Spring And learn the oft sung song their parents sing. Were i a poet i might describe in words Of how they kill and eat the young of smaller birds But taste for flesh run in their family And of any guilt all wild born things are free. Grey Currawong sing twelve months of the year And their bell like song is one i oft times hear And the young girl to her mother run to say What bird is that in wood across the way? .