Tasmanian Words: Ode To A Bush Stone Curlew
Bob is moved by the haunting cry of the Bush Stone Curlew.
Oft have I heard you in the depth of night
As your plaintive cry breaks the solemn hush.
Like the damned bewailing their awful plight
You weep it seems for the soul of the bush.
Cur-looo, Cur-LOOO, your haunting mournful call
Cleaves the still night air like the sharp axe-blade
Hacked through your hiding-place and left it bare.
We proudly staked our claim, but nature, paid
The steep price for your long-held bastion's fall.
Small wonder that your parting cry is all
Sadness, brim-full of anguish and despair.
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