Away from the noisy streets of the far town
Where day and night the noisy traffic buzz up and down
In the wooded hills three miles off of the highway
In a beautiful place it is so quiet today.
Mid August two weeks from the calendar Spring
The magpies in the town park all night and day sing
And who could mistake the song of the pee wee
But a far quieter place it keeps calling to me.
In the far wooded hills there's a chill in the breeze
And the weather is cool around fourteen degrees
But in my flights of fancy I hear and I see
The nesting birds whistle on bush and on tree.
In the far wooded hills the pied currawong
The dark birds that are said to have rain in their song
On the tall mountain ash trees in large flocks they call
As the rain in drizzle on the woodland fall.
The soft ticking like notes of the yellow robin I hear
And the harsh laugh of the kookaburra to my thoughts is near
In the far wooded hills far from the streets of the town
Where the noisy cars and trucks buzz up and down.
Where day and night the noisy traffic buzz up and down
In the wooded hills three miles off of the highway
In a beautiful place it is so quiet today.
Mid August two weeks from the calendar Spring
The magpies in the town park all night and day sing
And who could mistake the song of the pee wee
But a far quieter place it keeps calling to me.
In the far wooded hills there's a chill in the breeze
And the weather is cool around fourteen degrees
But in my flights of fancy I hear and I see
The nesting birds whistle on bush and on tree.
In the far wooded hills the pied currawong
The dark birds that are said to have rain in their song
On the tall mountain ash trees in large flocks they call
As the rain in drizzle on the woodland fall.
The soft ticking like notes of the yellow robin I hear
And the harsh laugh of the kookaburra to my thoughts is near
In the far wooded hills far from the streets of the town
Where the noisy cars and trucks buzz up and down.
