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In A Brighton Park

The noisy miners pipe on bush and tree
In a Brighton park near Melbourne by the sea
On a pleasant day and Summer in her prime
And a scene that would inspire a poet to rhyme.

The park garden beds are cloaked with pretty flowers
One might sit here and meditate for hours
And feel the warmth of the summer breeze
Where lorikeets are chirping on the trees.

Young lovers walking arm in arm embrace
She has the beauty of youth in her face
And he not more than twenty one or two
They have their dreams I hope their dreams come true.

The familiar fluting of the magpie lark
This is his home he lives around this park
And in this park he will live until he die
Beyond his borders he will never fly.

The woman for her ridgeback the stick throw
And he races off as fast as he can go
And he brings it back and drops it at her feet
And wags his tail and begs for a repeat.

In Brighton out of Melbourne by the sea
The wild birds pipe on every bush and tree
On a pleasant day and summer in her prime
And such beauty would inspire a poet to rhyme.

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