Bushfire

Bird, bird, fly away,

Bellbird, butcherbird, out of the fire.

''Hurry, hurry,'' the mother birds say.

The fire of fury growls and screeches,

Taking the harmless animals with them.

The restless wind roars with anger, 

Thrashing of trees, whipping the air,

But the weary birds find their way,

To a safe and quiet place to rest.

Until the restless fire dies away,

And the blue sky appears,

With the bright yellow sun, 

And the wind calms down,

Convincing all danger to fade away,

Letting happiness come to its rightful place.