Where the clear notes of the butcherbird are floating in the breeze
And the wattlebirds are calling on the flowering banksia trees.
I’m not a bushman never was though a rural man maybe
I love the coastal countryside the paddocks by the sea
The wide brown lands far from anywhere that inspire the bush poet
Though beautiful in their own right for me seem too remote.
I long to be away from here I tire of man made noise
The factory chimneys billowing smoke pollute the urban skies
The World I love a quieter place where Nature reign supreme
A bungalow close to the sea of such I often dream.
I long to be away from here far from the noisy crowd
Where the loudest voice of Nature it would seem is never loud
Where the river from the highlands it babbles night and day
Across the coastal paddocks towards the sea it winds it’s way.
I long to be away from here where when Winter fades to Spring
As the thunder o’er the coastal lands clap the rufous whistler sing
The loudest voice of Nature stirs in him the gift of song
In that old country by the sea I feel I do belong.