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Oh I'Ll Be Back Hopefully In Spring.

On eucalyptus branch by waterfall
Old kookaburra utter his laugh like call
And happy magpie warbling merrily
His beautiful and distinct melody.

I am a stranger on a foreign shore
Twelve thousand miles from home or maybe more
And strange the strange, strange music to my ear
Of wildborn tongue of southern hemisphere.

The grass bleached white from constant sizzling sun
And muddy creek down sunburnt valley run
This is no place for white skinned European
His home is where the grass grow evergreen.

This is no Land for man whose skin is white
As too much exposure to wind and sunlight
Prove damaging to white and paler skin
This is true home to hardy dark skinned men.

This Land to me though beautiful look strange
From Europe's environment quite a change
From heather hills green groves and rich green leas
To sunburnt Land of gum and wattle trees.

Oh I'll be back home hopefully in Spring
To hear the bog lark o'er the moorland sing
And hear the throstle pipe his merry lay
On green hedgerow in valley far away.

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