The grey shrike thrush pipes on a black wattle tree
Near where the old Merri river winds it's way to the sea
Through the flat and brown paddocks around Warrnambool
In March in the Fall on an evening calm and cool.
Though it rained overnight the landscape looks so dry
And not a rain cloud in the clear evening sky
And the thirsty one el nino is still lurking around
For to suck up each drop of moisture from the ground.
An ageing local who can recall as far back as fifty years ago
Says he has never seen the old Merri running so low
He was born and raised in this brown coastal country-side
And it makes him feel sad to think that the river he loves it has all but died.
The grey shrike thrush whistling melodious and clear
On this sunny evening in March in the Fall of the year
Where the old Merri river slowly winds it's way down
On it's way to the sea close to Warrnambool Town.
Near where the old Merri river winds it's way to the sea
Through the flat and brown paddocks around Warrnambool
In March in the Fall on an evening calm and cool.
Though it rained overnight the landscape looks so dry
And not a rain cloud in the clear evening sky
And the thirsty one el nino is still lurking around
For to suck up each drop of moisture from the ground.
An ageing local who can recall as far back as fifty years ago
Says he has never seen the old Merri running so low
He was born and raised in this brown coastal country-side
And it makes him feel sad to think that the river he loves it has all but died.
The grey shrike thrush whistling melodious and clear
On this sunny evening in March in the Fall of the year
Where the old Merri river slowly winds it's way down
On it's way to the sea close to Warrnambool Town.