In a paddock on Mr Johnson' farm there is a windmill reaching high.

The reason for a windmill is sometimes not quite clear,

Yet it's really of high value for every farmer near.

With every breeze and gust of wind it spins and spins around,

To move the water through the pipes up from the ground.

It brings the water to the troughs, a drinking source for many.

For every cow and sheep and horse, it makes sure they have plenty.

Now every time you see a windmill on the slopes and plains,

Remember that it's not jus there for looks or for games.

Up into the mountains the youth hike

To learn lessons that the elders invite.

The undergrowth can get quite dense

To disguise and hide all inhabitants.

A hideous shriek echoes across mountain tops

All pause to seek the source of this mournful yelp.

The unsettled hikers made camp that night

Elders sharpened nerves with stories to fright.

A scream seen bedlam reign at midnight

Camp was abandoned as all fled into the night.

Black Cockatoo's screech is an echo's delight

Curlew's bloodcurdling call does its work at night.

These culprits of bedlam surveyed the valley floor

Seeing the abandoned camp from the night before.

Black Cockatoo and Curlew gathered that morning to say

'Right O, who's next to be sent scurrying on their way?'

by Cliff Foley

Mudgee Valley Writers: They meet at Club Mudgee, First Floor, Room 2. On the second Tuesday each month at 12pm to 3pm. For current information, please email: mvw.nsw@gmail.com.