And the creek from the brown hill will journey on down
Through dry stony places and paddocks of brown.
In a century from now in the old Village park
Children will hear the song of the magpie lark
And happy teenagers will chase the football
And the night creatures will be heard after nightfall.
In a century from now night will follow day
And the ageing with hair dye will cover their gray
And the nocturnal creatures at nightfall will come out
The woods and the paddocks to venture about.
In a century from now in the days of the Spring
The dark swallows as they fly will twitter and sing
And the butcherbird will sing on a blackwood tree
Things will not change that much in a century.
There will be celebrations, wars, famines and laughter and tears
And things will not have changed much in a century of years
And people like the Seasons they will come and go
And the big river to the great ocean will flow.