By Leongatha Town Poem by Francis Duggan

The magpie on a gum tree pipes as the sun goes down
In paddock by the roadway by Leongatha Town
And leaves are gently rustling in the cool evening breeze
On a pleasant evening in January of around 20 degrees.

In the cool of the evening the little goldfinch sing
The music in his warble to it has a pleasant ring
In Mother Nature's garden birds pipe for territory
And the borders that are real to them are invisible to me.

Brown butterflies with dark wing spots flit around the wild growing flowers
Their life is brief they quickly age a year for every hour
Their prime hours spent in making love the need to multiply
And the natural survival instincts even in the fragile butterfly.

The countryside around Leongatha as old as father time
It has inspired the artists and inspired the bards to rhyme
It has outlived the dinosaurs and it's age none seem to know
And to the ancient paddocks the Seasons come and go.

The magpie on a gum tree he pipes his flute like song
A familiar Australian to this Country he belong
After eight in the evening as the sun is going down
In a paddock in South Gippsland by Leongatha Town.