I am the lyrebird, known as such
for the shape my tail feathers make in courtship.
Yet I know nothing of the lyre.
I am the mimic, the impersonator.
In my throat lives the call of the kookaburra.
Yet I know nothing of the kookaburra.
I am the joker, the imitator.
I can echo perfectly the sound of the chainsaw.
Yet I know nothing of the chainsaw.