The Air It Has A Wintery Chill

The air it has a wintery chill the sunless sky is gray But a magpie on a wattle tree pipes in the park today Not bothered by the cold breeze that blow down from the hill He pipes his very finest the one with silvery bill At the start of his breeding season his partner his only friend He sings to proclaim his borders and his nest to defend Even towards humans quite aggressive at this time of the year He swoop and fly close to them if to his borders they come near They sing at day and twilight at night and at daybreak The voices of the Aussie magpies one never could mistake Their beautiful flute like piping melodious and clear Can be heard in the moonlight at this time of the year.