In The High Woods Of South Belgrave

In the high woods of south Belgrave the bell miners I can hear
And their bell like notes are ringing and they seem so very near
And the sun is brightly shining on this warm october day
And the red rosella feed her young in hole of mountain gray.

In the high woods of south Belgrave I can hear the magpie sing
And his distinct notes so flute like always have a pleasant ring
And the butcherbird stick gathering she is building late this spring
And some early broods to hatch out have already took to wing.

And a warm wind from Tecoma up through the high country blow
And the paddocks lush and greener for the past two weeks or so
And willy wagtail perched on fence wire makes a chattering sort of noise
And his tail is ever wagging as he scans around for flies.

Were I a poet or lesser bard I might describe in words
The beauty of south Belgrave and the high woods and the birds
The gums, she oaks and wattles, the paddocks high and green
But I can't put to paper such great beauty I have seen.

Were I a gifted painter I would climb the higher ground
And from paddock of South Belgrave I would have a look
around
And go home an inspired man and paint from memory
For future generations to view what the painter see.

I can hear the magpie fluting I can hear the bellbirds ring
In the high woods of south Belgrave on this balmy day in spring
And the red rosella fly into nest hole in gray gum tree
With a morsel to be eaten by her hungry family.