I Often Do Think Of Old Birdsland

One day I must re-visit Birdsland a journey I feel I must make
If only to climb up the high wood or walk on the path by the lake
Or hear the swamphen, the coot and the moorhen each quite distinctive in their cry
And see the black duck and the wood duck and watch the shags hang their wings out to dry.

Above the high paddocks of Birdsland the dark swallows sing as they fly
And the loud squawkings of the white cockies are echoing in the evening sky
The feral geese and ducks on the lake the little grebe dive and resurface some metres away
I often do think of old Birdsland and to there I must return for a visit one day.

I often do think of old Birdsland often my old dog Jedder and I
Walked on the gravel path around the lake something that she seemed to enjoy
The old dog is at rest forever far from old Birdsland she lay
The reaper who claimed Jedder will claim me and in Earth's bosom my remains will decay.

I often do think of old Birdsland where I used to walk years ago
With the water birds I became familiar by their calls them I got to know
Around the paths by the lakes and the old creek mine was once a familiar face
And I must return to there if only for a visit it is such a beautiful place.