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They like the open country sparse in trees
And spend their day hours chasing flies and bees
From fencing post they seldom venture far
And you'll always see them near where fences are.
White undersides and upper parts all black
They oft hitch ride on cow or horse's back
On look out for grasshoppers to their taste buds quite sweet
Who expose themselves as they hop from trampling feet.
The eastern rosella on sunlit wattle tree
As beautiful a wild bird as one might wish to see
But back home in America there's prettier bird than he
The cardinal more beautiful or so 'twould seem to me.
Back home in North Dakota all though the months of Spring
In grove and wood and garden the red cardinals sing
How beautiful a memory a pleasant sunlit day
And the cardinals are singing in the joyful month of May.
There in the gray of the morning in the faint Winter sunlight
I saw a bird once familiar once to me a common sight
Greenfinch brought here by the white man and introduced in this Country
In his drab green cloak of Winter chirped on the mirror bush tree.
Seeing and hearing the green bird stirred memories of far away
Of the green hedgerows of Ireland in their bright blossoms of May
Over the trees of the headland in butterfly like courtship display...