In the land of the saltpans that look white as snow
Of very few creatures where saltbush does grow
The bones of the Dreamtime people in their hidden graves lay
In the deserted Coorong from here far away
Where few people live in a land old as time
That has inspired writers to story and rhyme
But the true history of the Coorong's first people will never be told
Or of where they lived, raised their children, hunted, danced and grew old
In my flights of fancy I hear and I see
A pale eyed crow cawing on a dead wattle tree
And the cormorants and pelicans hunt for marine prey
In Coorong saltwater from here far away
The memory to mental pictures does give rise
And things come to life when we do visualize
Of very few creatures where saltbush does grow
The bones of the Dreamtime people in their hidden graves lay
In the deserted Coorong from here far away
Where few people live in a land old as time
That has inspired writers to story and rhyme
But the true history of the Coorong's first people will never be told
Or of where they lived, raised their children, hunted, danced and grew old
In my flights of fancy I hear and I see
A pale eyed crow cawing on a dead wattle tree
And the cormorants and pelicans hunt for marine prey
In Coorong saltwater from here far away
The memory to mental pictures does give rise
And things come to life when we do visualize
