In Kelly Country

The olive backed oriole sings all through the day
His voice once near and then further away
And paddocks by the gum wood gray to brown
Some fifteen K's from Wangaratta Town.

The sun shines hot it's thirty eight degrees
And the cows stand in the shadow of the trees
And the hot winds suck all moisture from the ground
And the dykes and drains are dry for miles around.

It's been said that on moonless nights through the brown countryside
The gray ghosts of the Kelly gang still ride
Through paddocks and woods where the lone boobook cry
The farmer hear the horses gallop by.

The farmer doesn't keep horses he farm sheep
Yet the sound of galloping horses roused him from his sleep
Next morning he search his paddocks for a trace
Though not one sign of horse through all the place.

The Kelly gang their fame known world wide
And though in old Melbourne jail the bold Ned Kelly died
His ghost returned to the only land he knew
Back to from where the Kelly legend grew.

December and the sunlit paddocks brown
In Kelly country out of Wangaratta Town
And the hot winds suck all moisture from the ground
And the dykes and drains are dry for miles around.