In the paddocks of Illowa on a September night
A fox it is barking in the moonlight
A wild nocturnal shrill voice that is a fox's own
And a voice of Nature that is widely known
With his warbling flute like song to proclaim territory
A magpie is singing on a black-wood tree
A voice that is heard every day of the year
And at night in it's nesting time one often does hear
In Illowa on a night in September under a starlit sky
Mopoke mopoke the hunting boobook owl cry
In the still of the night long after sundown
Between Warrnambool City and old Koroit Town
And the hunting fox calling in the moonlight
In Illowa in Spring on a September night.
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