On Hearing And Seeing A White Winged Triller

The sun was not shining the sky looking grey
A cool wind was blowing up the hill from the bay
A black and white bird I do not often hear or see
Was singing and trilling on a wattle tree

A medium sized bird white winged triller by name
Among Nature's feathered minstrels a stranger to fame
But with lots of energy in their trilling song
To the cuckoo shrike family they do belong

In nest of bark felted with cobwebs and lined with strips of hay
Two or three green orange blotched eggs the female bird lay
High on a tree fork well hidden away
Out of sight of the nest robbing birds of prey

They feed on nectar and fruit and sometimes hunt for insects on the ground
And in large numbers they never seem to abound
Unlike many other songbirds they are not well known
But they are quite charming with ways of their own

On a grey morning in mid October in the prime of the Spring
A black and white male white winged triller was in mood for to sing
A songster of Spring who to sing is never shy
From tree to tree he sung as he did fly.