And red patch around eyes and darkened head and face
The southern figbird native to the place.
And with dark brown wings and breast of mottled gray
His wife perched near less than a foot away
A plainer bird with a different sort of look
For mavis she might easily be mistook.
I watched as ripened wildering figs they eat
I plucked one and crushed it between my teeth
I did not swallow quickly spat it out
As it left a sour and foul taste in my mouth.
I think of hunger i would rather die
Than eat those figs the figbirds so enjoy
The figs that to their taste buds taste so sweet
Which i found quite impossible to eat
In the Cascade Gardens in Broadbeach i see
The Figbirds on their home ground living free
And i a man from Land beyond the sea
Felt like a stranger on their territory.