The Creek From The Hills

Through the park well trimmed and green from places rank and brown
The creek from the hills flows through the country town
On it's long journey it babbles night and day
To the sea going river from here far away.

The old creek that was old back in the Dreamtime
Has inspired the writers to story and rhyme
Through the high wood the home of the whistling gray shrike thrush
Cloaked by the rank bracken downhill it does rush

As if in a hurry to reach it's destiny
The great waterway that flows into the sea
Twenty four hours a day and seven days of the week
It never stops babbling the brown mountain creek.

Through the park of the town every night and day
It ripples along on it's babbling way
Out of the green town park it winds it's way slow
On through scrubby places where rank bracken grow.