By The Waters Of The Tarwin

He lives in that brown Country where the Tarwin waters flow
And there's not much about native wildlife that he does not seem to know
The calls of the noisy miner and the yellow tail black cockatoo
And the whistling of the wombat and the coughing of grey roo

Some might call him a bushman those who like to pigeon hole
But why pass him off as ordinary when he's an enlightened soul
He knows more about Nature than most do it would seem
Though he cannot boast of great achievements for to boost his self esteem.

Just a shy country fellow without desire for fame
Few know of his existence and few know of him by name
A person who truly loves Nature his type becoming rare
He would be better known of course were he a financial millionaire.

To the old brown country the Seasons come and go
Where the waters of the Tarwin slowly to the ocean flow
And something new of Nature to be learned every day
And ever on the river towards the ocean winds it's way.

He lives in the brown country that is lush and green in the Spring
Where the magpie on the old gum every day pipe and sing
And he can name each bird by it's song and he can name each bush and tree
Growing by where the waters of the Tarwin babbles on down towards the sea.