There is'nt any doggerel there this morning
The inspiration well in me is dry
I hear the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk
And silver gulls along the foreshore cry.

And on the silky oaks house sparrows chirping
For house sparrows don't have a song to sing
And magpie lark the black and white bird whistling
His pee wee notes have a familiar ring.

And through it all the noise of passing traffic
And gas and smog pollute suburban skies
And humankind I feel is the big loser
Where voice of nature compete with man created noise.

Of any inspiration I feel empty
I feel burnt out from scribbling doggerel
The poets are gone to join the poets of heaven
And I am bound for the poetasters hell.

On silky oak the plain house sparrows chirping
And magpie lark is whistling pee wee
And man created noise compete with Nature
And silver gulls are calling by the sea.

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