White Cockatoos

 Now the autumn maize is growing, 
Now the corn-cob fills, 
Where the Little River flowing 
Winds among the hills.
 
Over mountain peaks outlying 
Clear against the blue 
Comes a scout in silence flying, 
One white cockatoo.
 
Back he goes to where the meeting 
Waits among the trees.
 
Says, "The corn is fit for eating; 
Hurry, if you please.
" 
Skirmishers, their line extendiing, 
Shout the joyful news; 
Down they drop like snow descending, 
Clouds of cockatoos.
 

At their husking competition 
Hear them screech and yell.
 
On a gum tree's high position 
Sits a sentinel.
 
Soon the boss goes boundary riding; 
But the wise old bird, 
Mute among the branches hiding, 
Never says a word.
 

Then you hear the strident squalling: 
"Here's the boss's son, 
Through the garden bushes crawling, 
Crawling with a gun.
 
May the shiny cactus bristles 
Fill his soul with woe; 
May his knees get full of thistles.
 
Brothers, let us go.
" 

Old Black Harry sees them going, 
Sketches Nature's plan: 
"That one cocky too much knowing, 
All same Chinaman.
 
One eye shut and one eye winkin' -- 
Never shut the two; 
Chinaman go dead, me thinkin', 
Jump up cockatoo.
"

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