Starlings

There's something in Australian air,
   Something about Australian sun
That reputations one time fair
   Fall from us, and we are undone.
Gay, carefree chatterers at Home,
   Pert innocents of English eaves:
But when to newer lands we roam
   Branded as pilferers and theives.

But tho' we raid your orchard trees
   And wake your anger now and then,
Surely such little sins as these
   Bans not all sympathy from men.
A bird must win a livelihood
   In stranger lands when fare is scant
And, for amends, we work some good
   As grateful farmers freely grant.

But who gives thought to rifled yields
   Who deigns to wait and watch a while
Our flocks upon your sunlit fields,
   Whe sumemrs indolently smile --
A merry, free, exultant band.
   Our gay coats glinting in the sun
When, at some swift, unseen commmand
   We rise, we dip, we wheel as one.

Men rave and count us enemies
   And many strive to work us ill.
Yet pray remember, if you please
   That we are here not at our will
Some homesick exile brought us hence
   To be a solace for his grief
So, spite of all our grave offence,
   Can't you forgive a cheery thief?