SINGING all the summer long
Matin hymn and evensong,
    Fluting freely thro’ the noonday’s drowsy hush;
Pouring from my leafy bow’r
Benedictions every hour,
    I am the friend of all the world. Grey Thrush.

Mine no monotonic lay
Harping all the livelong day
    On a single melody, however sweet;
But, with many a turn and twist,
I, the bushland’s soloist,
    Offer all my varied repertoire complete.

Happiest songster of them all,
Who can hear my joyous call
    Yet find no echoing gladness in his heart?
Madrigal and lullaby,
Chant and canticle sing I;
    Every mood l melodize with careless art.

Singing all the summer long
Matin hymn, and vesper song,
    Fluting freely thro’ the noonday’s drowsy hush;
In my drab habiliment
Peace I sing, and glad content,
    I’m the bushland’s master melodist, Grey Thrush.