In Castlemaine

The Winter mostly cold and dry
And little rainfall in July
And not much water in the creek and drain
By the old Town of Castlemaine.

In central Victoria a Colonial Town
Of The wild colonial boy renown
One of a dubious sort of fame
A ballad glorifies his name.

The chill of Winter in the air
And in the paddocks brown and bare
The cattle bellowing for hay
Close to their feed barrier they stay.

The magpie's flute is ringing clear
Always a pleasant thing to hear
They build their nest of sticks as Spring draws near
Before blossoms on the fruit trees appear.

In Castlemaine on a Winter's day
The sun doesn't shine through clouds of gray
Yet little water in the creek and drain
And the bone dry paddocks thirst for rain.