The rustling of dry fallen leaves on the pathway in the breeze
And the songs of the birds on the bushes and trees
And the babbling song of the old mountain rill
On it's way to the river from the foot of the hill
The rumble of the huge waves when the great ocean roar
That splash on the rocks overlooking the shore
The crack of the thunder as the rain buckets down
And the lightning lights up the dark streets of the town
And the call of the boobook when the moon's in the sky
As it hunts for small prey in the wood to you nearby
A creature that's not often seen in the daylight
The wild cry of a fox in the still of the night
Nature is so distinctive in her mysterious way
In her voices of night and her voices of day.
And the songs of the birds on the bushes and trees
And the babbling song of the old mountain rill
On it's way to the river from the foot of the hill
The rumble of the huge waves when the great ocean roar
That splash on the rocks overlooking the shore
The crack of the thunder as the rain buckets down
And the lightning lights up the dark streets of the town
And the call of the boobook when the moon's in the sky
As it hunts for small prey in the wood to you nearby
A creature that's not often seen in the daylight
The wild cry of a fox in the still of the night
Nature is so distinctive in her mysterious way
In her voices of night and her voices of day.
