The Pied Butcherbird

In the bright morning sunshine i hear that flute like song And there can be no mistaking to whom the voice belong I close my eyes and visualize and distance disappear And the voice of the pied butcherbird i fancy i can hear. High on the sunlit gum tree bill pointed towards the sky His soft and pleasant whistle heard by the passer by His song perhaps of territory or to attract a mate And school boys on their way to school his whistle imitate. In Northern New South Wales and Queensland where Winter's as mild as Spring In the coolness of the morning the pied butcherbirds sing In parklands and town gardens on gum and wattle trees You hear them softly warbling their pleasant melodies. Just as the dawn is breaking and as darkness leaves the sky You hear them chirp and whistle as from branch to branch they fly Birds of the sub tropics and tropics north of the cooler south For to define their borders they sing as they fly about. I close my eyes and visualize and distance disappear And the song of the pied butcherbird i fancy i can hear His dark wings slightly trembling bill pointed towards the sky And his soft and pleasant whistle heard by the passer by.