Francis Duggan Voices Poems

In my flights of fancy with Pudsy our brown cattle dog
I walk the rushy meadows by Matty Owens bog
The hawthorns cloaked in white blooms and May is in her prime
How great the gift of memory is it spans the years of time
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Some voices of Nature one should not get wrong
The songs of the magpies and the pied currawong
The magpie lark with his familiar pee wee
And who could mistake the blackbird's melody
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The Seasons pass quickly seems only like yesterday
That i heard the corncrakes in meadows far away
Their rasping calls could be heard in the Summer night
In the long grass of the meadows in the faint moonlight
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The night it is calm with the slightest of breeze
The male possums fighting on the moonlit trees
Distinct from domestic dog in the wildness of his or her cry
The hunting fox barking in the paddock nearby
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So many voices of Australia the drone of the didgeridoo
The soft whistles of the shy wombat the cough of the gray kangaroo
The cries of the long bill corella the harsh squawks of the white cockatoo
The mimicking songs of the lyrebird the calls of the dark brown weerloo
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Familiar voices in Nature that everyone know
The flute of the magpie the caw of the crow
The pipe of the blackbird melodious and clear
And the whistle of the shrike thrush so pleasant to hear
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The currawongs sing in the wood over there
They cannot be mistook for their familiar air
They call karrawang flying from tree to tree
You know them by their song before them you do see.
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Most birds by their voices one cannot get wrong
The chirpings of crimson rosellas the call of the pied currawong
The laughter of the kookaburra the magpie's flute like song
To each individual bird species their own voice belong
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The rustling of dry fallen leaves on the pathway in the breeze
And the songs of the birds on the bushes and trees
And the babbling song of the old mountain rill
On it's way to the river from the foot of the hill
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The voices come to me from long ago
Of Nature's children that I used to know
I hear them sing on hedge and tree and bush
The robin and the blackbird and the thrush.
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The voices come to me from long ago
Of Nature's children that i used to know
I hear them sing on hedge and tree and bush
The robin and the blackbird and the thrush.
...