Currawong

I heard a Currawong singing in a Kurrajong Down along the billabong outside Yarrawonga last July He sang a mournful song of how his love had done him wrong He choked upon a slipped diphthong and heaved a prolonged sigh 'She’s fallen for a Lyrebird who truly is a dreadful nerd It’s too absurd - she hasn’t heard a single word I say I’ve been cold-shouldered for an ape who’s over-feathered I’m feeling so bothered and bewildered. Lack a day!' Just then up in the sky a lady Currawong flew by A roguish glint suffused his eye as he launched on high with quite a show Which proves you can’t rely on all the tears the lovelorn cry In an instant they can dry as spry as frying snow