The smell of pollen from the bushes and trees
And white butterflies dance in the freshening breeze
And the song of the magpie melodious and clear
Is so pleasant to hear at this time of the year.
The sparrows they chirp on the young trees by the wall
On this warm day in March in the southern Fall
The landscape so brown in the evening sunlight
Of such natural beauty a poet would write.
The cows at their ease chew their cuds in the shade
And the farmer complain a profit cannot be made
From farming when the land is ravaged by drought
And thirsty El Nino is hanging about.
A warm day in March of some thirty degrees
And the strong smell of pollen blowing out from the trees
And the thistledown from the thistles nearby
For to plant their seed elsewhere are flying through the sky.
And white butterflies dance in the freshening breeze
And the song of the magpie melodious and clear
Is so pleasant to hear at this time of the year.
The sparrows they chirp on the young trees by the wall
On this warm day in March in the southern Fall
The landscape so brown in the evening sunlight
Of such natural beauty a poet would write.
The cows at their ease chew their cuds in the shade
And the farmer complain a profit cannot be made
From farming when the land is ravaged by drought
And thirsty El Nino is hanging about.
A warm day in March of some thirty degrees
And the strong smell of pollen blowing out from the trees
And the thistledown from the thistles nearby
For to plant their seed elsewhere are flying through the sky.