The butcherbird sings on an old gray gum tree
Where the Merri waters flow on towards the sea
Through an old Land that has inspired story and rhyme
That was even old in the ancient Dreamtime.
The old Merri river so calmly does flow
As near to the ocean it crawls along slow
Just over a mile from where the surf waves roar
It quietly moves on to the saltwater shore.
On this warm day in November of hardly any breeze
Out of the sun the cattle they lay in the shade of the trees
In a paddock that is lit by the sun's warm light
Of such tranquil beauty the poets do write.
Centuries before the first people to this Southern Land came
The Merri the waterway without a name
Across the brown Countryside night after day
The river on down to the sea made it's way.
On the nearby bushes melodious and clear
The song of the shrike thrush so pleasant to hear
And harsh is the caw of the dark pale eyed crow
Where the Merri on down to the great ocean flow.
Where the Merri waters flow on towards the sea
Through an old Land that has inspired story and rhyme
That was even old in the ancient Dreamtime.
The old Merri river so calmly does flow
As near to the ocean it crawls along slow
Just over a mile from where the surf waves roar
It quietly moves on to the saltwater shore.
On this warm day in November of hardly any breeze
Out of the sun the cattle they lay in the shade of the trees
In a paddock that is lit by the sun's warm light
Of such tranquil beauty the poets do write.
Centuries before the first people to this Southern Land came
The Merri the waterway without a name
Across the brown Countryside night after day
The river on down to the sea made it's way.
On the nearby bushes melodious and clear
The song of the shrike thrush so pleasant to hear
And harsh is the caw of the dark pale eyed crow
Where the Merri on down to the great ocean flow.
