There’s a hidden treasure nobody sees,
Hidden by the hills, blown by the breeze.
No-one to see it, no-one to care
But a magpie sitting on a broken chair.
Chorus
And the magpie sings of her new-found riches,
The glass and paper lying in the ditches,
Her tin-can treasure and no-one could care
But a magpie sitting on a broken chair.
The small birds rise and take to the wing,
And think of their nests to be built in the spring.
No-one to see them, no-one to care
But a magpie sitting on a broken chair.
And the magpie’s song soon reaches the ears
Of the people in the town but nobody hears.
No-one to listen, no-one to care
But a magpie sitting on a broken chair.
But if we listen, if we care
For the magpie’s song and the birds of the air,
We can use all the things that we threw to the breeze,
Save our hills and the lonely trees.
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