I won't be going back to the old wooded hill
Where the magpie at dawn opens his silvery bill
And flutes his sweet music melodious and clear
The songster who sings every day of the year.
I won't be going back to that old country town
Where few cars or trucks night and day pass up and down
The wide and lonely streets that are quiet night and day
I won't be going back to the town far away.
The passing of time leaves me older and slow
But my past seems to follow to where-ever to i go
Yet i yearn for new places to live in and see
And the bug of the wander is living in me.
The past is behind me but with me the memories of it remain
And i won't be going back to the old town again
By the old wooded hill of the dark pale eyed crow
That was old in the Dreamtime many centuries ago.
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