OK corby, you remember that old proverb 'be careful what you ask for, because you might get it'? Well, you asked so suck it up:
SONG OF THE PORCUPINE (Mountain Music for the Terminally Deaf)
Stark against the summer sky
In silence, snowgums stand,
By fire frozen into bone,
Burned white by winter's brand.
Billy Buttons shrill beneath
Of youth and green-gold glory;
Slow, lichen chants on weathered rock
The deeper, older story;
Mintbush carols high and clear
The season's sweetest pleasures;
Orchids murmur soft and low
It's subtle unseen treasures;
Many-coloured Daisies
Harmonise and join the throng;
Join the Eyebright's gentle lilting;
Join the Trigger's strident song;
Join the humming of the mosses;
Join the steady droning beat,
The endless rolling rhythm
Of the Snowgrass underfeet.
Everlasting, everchanging,
But the music's halting now -
Tones of green and cream are missing,
With a scent, a stir of bough -
For the snowgums have been silenced,
And long years must turn 'til eyes
Hear once again their ragged voices
Raised against the summer skies.