My accent seems too heavy for most to understand
And I'm still seen as a foreigner in this great southern land
But in this the Bunurong Homeland there's great beauty to see
And this vast southern country is home from home for me.
As I walked up the track through Baxter's land at twilight of a Spring day
Upon a bracken hill from where I walked some eighty metres away
A mob of grey roos they boxed and played in the late evening sunshine
A small mob as kangaroos go I counted only nine.
A black shouldered kite swooped down from above quite close to hitting me
And he returned again for a repeat I was in his territory
Not unlike us humans wild creatures too have their borders to defend
And a black shouldered kite is not to know a foe from a true friend.
How could I show the black shouldered kite I was not his enemy
When his mate shielded her young on their stick nest nearby high on branch of gum tree
Schoolboys last year they stoned their nest and killed their young the bad memory with him stay
The reason that from his territory he tried his best for to frighten me away.
The aggression shown to me by the black shouldered kite I well can understand
To him I was a foreigner and a threat in his land
To him last year's schoolboys who killed his young and I one of the same
And for the anger he showed towards me him I could never blame.
As I walked down the track that led from Baxter's land in the fading light of day
I thought of the black shouldered bird in his cloak of silver gray
who tried to drive me from his territory he see me as a threat
To him one of the boys last year who stoned his young to death.
In this great land I'm still a foreigner a man from far away
And I'll be looked on as a migrant here until my dying day
But the black shouldered kite in Baxter's land who mobbed me as I walked through his territory
Would not treat an Australian in any way differently to me.
No comments:
Post a Comment