The Golden Whistler

I saw him in front garden yesterday
That golden breasted bird who whistles in the Spring
The rain came drizzling sky was dull to gray
And golden whistler had no song to sing.

With darkened head and yellow, olive wings
And white patch on throat bird I don't often see
But in Spring and early Summer every day
He pipes high up on gum or wattle tree.

The golden whistler feels no cause for joy
In Winter his is unfamiliar voice
On wet and overcast day in July
He must feel no great reason to rejoice.

The female whistler always dresses plain
The male bird is the brightly coloured one
And it is one of Nature's more appealing sights
To see him lit by bright rays of the sun.

In garden golden whistlers seldom seen
As forest birds they have been classified
One seldom see them near human built house
In woodland and in scrubland they reside.

I saw him in the garden yesterday
The golden breasted bird who whistles in the Spring
The rain came drizzling sky was dull to gray
And golden whistler had no song to sing.