In Point Smythe

In Point Smythe quite close to Venus Bay
From where I am now in distance far away
The kangaroos known as the eastern gray
In the paddocks graze in the gloaming of the day,
On the coastal mudflats the tiny crabs are out
In their thousands they are running about
Sensitive to sound the least noise they do hear
And at approaching footsteps into their holes they disappear,
In Point Smythe miles from the nearest rural town
The grey butcherbird pipes as the sun goes down
And there's a cool freshness in the coastal breeze
That gently soughs in the melaleuca trees
And the gray roos they graze and hop around
As shades of darkness creep across the ground.