Memories Of The Sherbrooke Hills

The songs of the currawongs I fancy I hear
In the high woods at Olinda far distant from here
And the soughing of the wind in the high mountain ash trees
Of the Sherbrooke hills I have such fond memories.

The laughter of the kookaburras just before nightfall
And the cry of the boobook is nice to recall
The small brown woodland owl who hunts in the night
When the moon is out, they sleep during daylight.

In the Yarra Ranges the white cockatoos cry
On the tall gums by Birdsland creek as night darkens the sky
The beauty of Sherbrooke is with me today
Though from the high Country I live far away.

In Kallista in late Winter the male superb lyrebird sing
A mimic his song is a beautiful thing
Snippets of songs of his neighbours in his song he imitate
Perhaps 'tis his way of wooing a mate.

They've been sketched by famed artists and they've inspired bards to rhyme
The old Yarra Ranges the hills old as time
And in my flights of fancy down memory lane
I can hear the pied currawong the birds of rain.