Since the last time I see old Wonthaggi many weeks and months have gone by
Above the scrub by Powlett River the lark sang in the sunny sky
The country side by the old coal Town I do see when I visualize
And on the bracken clad hill of Baxter's land I see the roos box at sunrise
A historical Town old Wonthaggi it's fame it is known far and wide
Where miners won their strike for higher wages and better working conditions in the mine where some of their comrades died
The mine closed down in the late nineteen sixties but it's history in writing lives on
And most of the old Wonthaggi miners like the mine to the reaper have gone,
In fancy I can hear the shrike thrush whistling on a black wattle tree
Between Dalyston and Kilcunda where the Powlett flows down to the sea
A place that has such an ancient history the old home of the Bunurong
In the countryside by Powlett river they had their corroborees and song
Of the old Town in Coastal South Gippsland such fond memories I do retain
And often in my flights of fancy I visit Wonthaggi again.
Above the scrub by Powlett River the lark sang in the sunny sky
The country side by the old coal Town I do see when I visualize
And on the bracken clad hill of Baxter's land I see the roos box at sunrise
A historical Town old Wonthaggi it's fame it is known far and wide
Where miners won their strike for higher wages and better working conditions in the mine where some of their comrades died
The mine closed down in the late nineteen sixties but it's history in writing lives on
And most of the old Wonthaggi miners like the mine to the reaper have gone,
In fancy I can hear the shrike thrush whistling on a black wattle tree
Between Dalyston and Kilcunda where the Powlett flows down to the sea
A place that has such an ancient history the old home of the Bunurong
In the countryside by Powlett river they had their corroborees and song
Of the old Town in Coastal South Gippsland such fond memories I do retain
And often in my flights of fancy I visit Wonthaggi again.
