With biscuits and crumbs of dry bread,

With bird baths to keep them well watered,

And birdseed to keep them well fed.

The doves come in teeming great numbers

To peck for the seeds in the grass,

While my cat sits and watches their antics,

As they strut up and down, bold as brass.

He gets close, and they move a bit further

Away, though they don't make a fuss.

I know that they know he's an old cat,

Yet there might be one pounce left in Puss!

The magpies are fearless and friendly,

And run up to see what I've got.

They make quite a row at 6.30

When breakfast's not there on the dot! 

They'll feed from my hand on occasion,

But then when I'm in the back yard

They swoop on me like I'm a stranger,

Good job my head is quite hard.

The crows like to visit and feed here

But the wattle birds chase them away,

While a much welcome bird I love watching

Is that noisy galah, pink and grey.

I won't mention birds like the boobooks,

Which are owls, who don't come for a feed

I know they're around, 'cos I hear them,

But they'd rather catch mice than eat seed.

My weero who lives in my lounge room

Will sing to these birds all day long.

Who needs to play CD's and records,

And spoil their incredible song?

The birds who parade in my garden

Give me joy such as I've never known.

I don't have a man living with me,