In The Far Wooded Hills

Away from the noisy streets of the far town Where day and night the noisy traffic buzz up and down In the wooded hills three miles off of the highway In a beautiful place it is so quiet today. Mid August two weeks from the calendar Spring The magpies in the town park all night and day sing And who could mistake the song of the pee wee But a far quieter place it keeps calling to me. In the far wooded hills there's a chill in the breeze And the weather is cool around fourteen degrees But in my flights of fancy I hear and I see The nesting birds whistle on bush and on tree. In the far wooded hills the pied currawong The dark birds that are said to have rain in their song On the tall mountain ash trees in large flocks they call As the rain in drizzle on the woodland fall. The soft ticking like notes of the yellow robin I hear And the harsh laugh of the kookaburra to my thoughts is near In the far wooded hills far from the streets of the town Where the noisy cars and trucks buzz up and down.