Don't Tell Me To Where My Heart Should Belong

The wide brown land by famous poets made famous, the treeless land is not the land for me
I'd much prefer the breezy coastal country where slow deep waters crawl on towards the sea
Where one can hear the mighty surf waves rumble as they rage against the volcanic rocks on the shore
Like a battle that forever has been raging and is destined to rage forever more.

I've always loved where the land meets the ocean though I was raised far from the ocean shore
By ancient hills in scenic green old country from the saltwater sixty miles or more
But I've always had a soft spot for the coastlands and the big surf waves sweet music to my ears
Though I would never be seen as a coastal man for I have lived by Inland hills for years.

The old bush poets can have their wide brown outback each to their own still happens to be true
I love the sea breeze and the smell of sea weed and the white surf waves and waters deep and blue
And though I may not be seen as a coastal person as I cannot swim or on a surf board ride
Still I love to sit on cliff above the ocean and watch the sea weed washed in by the tide.

The bush lovers can have their wide brown outback for their sort of lifestyle I would not enjoy
I'd rather not live distant from saltwater where gull, gannet and tern fish and fly
The quaint piping of the sooty oystercatcher, the curlew on the mudflats flutes his pleasant song
And though I may not be seen as a coastal person, don't tell me to where my heart should belong.