There must be twenty thousand and that is just a guess
And if you pressed me further i’d say there’s more than less.
The fruit bats or flying foxes the name most know them by
Leave their roost in the evening when darkness cloak the sky
In search of fruit and wild figs they fly for miles around
And return before daybreak to their trees on roosting ground
The fruit bats on their roosting trees quite often disagree
And if one is evicted he fly to other tree
To rest near friendlier neighbour who will allow him space
In fruit bat pecking order each find their rightful place.
The fruit bats of Cascade Gardens dark wings and heads of brown
On trees along by the river roost hanging upside down
In search of fruit and wild figs they fly for miles around
And return before daybreak to their trees on roosting ground