Poem Hunter
Out There In The Wide And Brown Country
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Out There In The Wide And Brown Country

Out there in the flat and wide Country where the paddocks are flat and brown
Where the roos rest by day out of sight in the woodlets many miles from the nearest big Town
The white winged choughs can be heard calling black birds of humans rather shy
With red eyes they look quite attractive white showing under their wings as they fly.

Out there in the wide and brown country far inland by road from the sea
Away from noisy Suburbia many sheep and cattle one see
And yet one don't see many houses in such places Humans are rare
They'd much prefer to live where there are factories puffing up black smoke that pollute the air

Out there in the wide and big country where one sees far more brown than green
The noisy white short billed corellas in flocks of hundreds to be seen
The paddocks parched from the long dry spells no water in the roadside drain
The creek it is down to a trickle this Countryside badly needs rain.

To the big and the wide brown country the Seasons they come and they go
One can hear the whistling of the shrike thrush and the harsh caws of the dark pale eyed crow
Far away from the noisy City in the calm of the southern July
In the sunny depths of the Winter and not a rain cloud in the sky.

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