The Call Of The Whip Bird Poem by Francis Duggan

In the steep wooded gullies in the spring of the year
The whip like cracking call of the male whip bird a sound one often does hear
In such places a bird one does hear often though seldom ever see
Theirs is a familiar voice to many and many includes me
One of the voices of the woodland the local lyrebird imitate
That he incorporates into his song of mimicry when serenading for a mate
in the steep wooded gully till darkness from daybreak
The voice of the male whip bird one could never mistake
Nature's secrets are in the many though her wonders are not few
And every day from her we do learn something new
In the steep wooded gully in undergrowth to the knees
The male whip is calling in the shadow of the trees
In the dense undergrowth cover he and his mate from eyes hidden away
Where his whip like cracking call does echo intermittently through the day.