In The high Wooded Country

The harsh grating cries of white sulphur crested cockatoos
And the familiar voices of the dark brown weerloos
In the high wooded country from here far away
If only in fancy i am back there today
Where with eyes to the ground clinging to trunk of tree
The eastern yellow robins birds one often does see
On the look out for ground insects or smaller crawling prey
In their yellow breasts and wings and back of bluish grey
The kookaburras amongst the first birds to wake
In the dark of the morning just before daybreak
Their loud cackling laughter their territorial song
Once heard you will never again get them wrong
The memories of such marvellous beauty remain
Where in fancy i often do visit again.