A magpie sits on our back fence,
he sings when the sun comes up.
His song goes up and down and round,
like water poured from a cup.
He is black and white with a strong grey beak,
and his eyes are shiny and bright.
He hops across the wet green grass
to look for worms. What a sight!
Mum says, 'Don't feed him bread, my love,
it's not good for his tummy.'
So I just watch him from the step
and he sings a song for me.
When I walk to school he flies along,
from the gum tree to the gate.
I wave and call out, 'Bye, magpie!'
He warbles, 'Don't be late!'