THE SINGING GARDEN

The Magpie

“CalLOG’alloo-ay” On a windy day.
      Perched on a tree-top high
  I pour my notes from a valiant throat;
      For cock o’ the walk am I!
  Defiant, loud, superbly proud,
      My song soars to the blue,
  A clarion call a challenge to all:
      “CalLOG’alloo-ay-calloo!”

I have  set the bounds to my feeding grounds;
      And here I am the king.
  With beak and claw I press my law
      On every feathered thing.
  Cock o’ the walk—no questing hawk,
      Proud eagle, crow nor thrush
  Stays to defy my battle-cry,
      My pinions’ whistling rush.

“CalLOG’allay-oo!” When day is new
      I fill the scented morn
  With a joyful song, loud, sweet and long—
      My echoing, hunting horn.
  “Calloo, callay!” I greet the day
      Throned on a tree-top high.
  In my domain I rule, I reign,
      Cock o’ the walk am I!

Epilogue