December In The Northlands

 In the branches of the leafless deciduous trees from here far away

The cold gales of December are soughing today

And the cattle in the farmyard sheds in the dawning grey

Are bellowing to be fed on silage or hay

The birds in backyards pecking on slices of stale thrown out bread

a cold, wet and frosty Winter of them is ahead

Most of the frail and the old of them will not live to see Spring

For every bird there is a last song to sing

December in the Northlands is a cold and wet time of year

And bird song is a thing anyone does not hear

And Christmas fast approaching and the birth of a New Year is near

And the sun seldom shines and the sky seldom clear

And storm water is gurgling in every roadside drain

And the freshening gales tell of oncoming rain.