The tiny breeding frogs are singing in the roadside drain
And the magpie he pipes in the wind and the rain
And as shades of darkness roll across the sky
The foxes are barking on the hill nearby
In the chilly gloam of a gray Winter's day
The grey roos in the scrub they box as they play
And the calls of the birds known to some as weerloo
The big birds known to most as yellow tail black cockatoo,
A chilly evening in June ten weeks from the Spring
But the grey backed magpie is not shy to sing,
With it the gray fog carries a silent chill
As it slowly creeps across the old stony hill,
On a chilly evening not cold enough to snow
Harsh is the caw of the dark homing crow.