Out there in the moonlit paddock beneath a starry sky
I hear the red fox barking a wild and distinctive cry
Perhaps the creature is hungry or out searching for a mate
The Nature of survival is the lust to pro-create.
Out there in the quiet woodlet in the chilly freshening breeze
The boobook owl is calling on the gum and wattle trees
Mopoke mopoke the familiar call ring out in the quiet of the night
From a bird that hunts at night-time and sleeps in the daylight.
Out there in the bare paddock in the coldness of July
The masked lapwings are calling as above their breeding grounds they fly
Perhaps a fox or feral cat may be lurking nearby
With eggs to defend in their nest there is fear in their cry.
Out there in the moonlit paddock the night creatures are out
The silent fox now stalking where the rabbits hop about
And the wombat whistle softly and the ring tail possums call
In the chilly depths of Winter as from branch to branch they crawl.
Out there in the stillness of the night the frogs sing in the drain
The urge to breed upon them their songs tell us of rain
The shy nocturnal creatures will hide themselves away
For to rest whilst songbirds chirp and sing in the bright light of the day