Old Birdsland to my thoughts it is ever near
And in flights of fancy I fancy I hear
The shrike thrush whistling on a wattle tree
His beautiful notes are familiar to me
The white backed magpie with the silvery bill
Is piping in the wood on the old brown hill
That overlook Birdsland and it's famous lake
In the calm of the morning just after daybreak
Where black duck, wood duck, coot, moorhen and swamphen reside
And where the shy bittern in the tall water reeds hide
And where the little grebe they swim and they dive
And pied shag and their cousins black cormorants thrive
In Birdsland from here many long miles away
Where in fancy I walk around the lakes today.