The Air It Has A Wintery Chill

The air it has a wintery chill the sunless sky is gray
But a magpie on a wattle tree pipes in the park today
Not bothered by the cold breeze that blow down from the hill
He pipes his very finest the one with silvery bill
At the start of his breeding season his partner his only friend
He sings to proclaim his borders and his nest to defend
Even towards humans quite aggressive at this time of the year
He swoop and fly close to them if to his borders they come near
They sing at day and twilight at night and at daybreak
The voices of the Aussie magpies one never could mistake
Their beautiful flute like piping melodious and clear
Can be heard in the moonlight at this time of the year.