One Born To Sing

In the coastal town suburb melodious and clear The flute of the magpie so pleasant to hear The silver billed magpie one born to sing In Summer and Autumn and Winter and Spring How lovely to hear his kind on a cold Winter's night Fluting in the Townpark in the faint moonlight In their breeding Season their own kind not a friend They sing night and day with borders to defend None better at singing than them it would seem The Australian Magpies are songsters supreme In the park of the town to their songs we awake And their musical notes one could never mistake The aggressive birds with the beautiful song By sight or by sound you cannot get them wrong.