I spy a nest way up in a tree
It looks little and messy down here to me
I should appreciate it, for it’s art
But I know what’s coming and I will have to dart
In and out, Up and down
Avoiding the bird, making her rounds
The swooping Magpie of doom
It takes us out, out of the room
Now a magpie has a lovely warble
Pretty and melodious
It’s sound is sweet.
She’s a biggish bird
Black and white
And on the face of it
Nature got it right.
But Oh when nesting season does start
So does the swooping and so does cry
Not one to discriminate
It doesn’t matter how nice
You have been to the bird
Come nesting season
You’ll be ducking alright.