By Chelsea AdamsFind out more about Chelsea here! White crests Screaming calls Wild animals Of the great outdoors. Long beaks or white wings Sorting through rubbish Or eating seeds in a field. Around the only lake I lounge, On a picnic rug I hear a sound Those bin juice drinking birds I hear Screech and chirp On a twiggy island Not too far from here. In a forest of gum trees
Or crossing red desert plains, Multicoloured rainbows As the fly in perfect formations Of flapping wings, Or run across the ground At high speeds. With their white bodies And long, picnic wrecking beaks They sit and wait to entreat Upon a lovely family outing Where they are cooking sausages And counting; Counting the ibis Before the kids Run and yell, shooing them, Into the breeze Back to the island That wreaks of such an Australian bird, Cause they really are: Just bin juice drinking birds. All unique and interesting, And some quite strange All from the largest island On the oceanic plane.
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