On The Last Time That I Was In Birdsland
On the last time that I was in Birdsland the Butcherbird piped on a wattle tree
by Francis Duggan
And a warm wind blew downhill from South Belgrave when Spring was in her infancy
On a day in early September it was such a beautiful day
And memories of such peace and beauty in a few months does not fade away.
On the last time that I was in Birdsland I walked the pathways by the lakes
I heard the harsh quacks of the black ducks and the softer quacking of the drakes
And in the water reeds the moorhens, coots and swamphens were nesting the urge in them to multiply
And pied cormorant by the lake standing with his wet wings stretched out to dry.
Old Birdsland a haven for wildlife and places such as it are rare
And it's a place I like to return to for I always feel at home there
White ibis and their straw necked cousins with their long bills for food probe the ground
And crimson and eastern rosellas and galahs and white cockies in Birdsland abound.
On the last time that I was in Birdsland on a day in September in Spring
The familiar pipe of white backed magpie to it had a beautiful ring
The water birds were busy nest building such memories we tend to retain
And each time that I visit Birdsland I feel like I'm back home again.