The Boobook's Call

When the pale full moon is stealing through the calm and starry sky 'Tis an eerie sort of feeling for to hear the boobook's cry Mopoke mopoke he cries out unmelodious though clear At times he seems quite distant and at times he seems quite near A brown spotted owl that roosts in thick tree foliage out of the sunlight The boobook's is a familiar voice of the Australian night So often I have heard them as I lay in bed awake Mopoke mopoke they cry out in a voice none could mistake Birds that hide away in tall trees from the light of day On mice, small birds and insects it is said they do prey They fly out of their roosting trees in the evening at nightfall And they cannot be mistaken in their distinctive call Mopoke mopoke he cries out in the Australian night On the tall gum and acacia trees in the calm of the moonlight