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Powlett
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Powlett

Down from the old high brown country where it flows eternally
The dusky waters of the Powlett babbles on it's way to the sea
Through the flat and scrubby paddocks it darkens and deepens as it flow
Where the Bunurong the children of the Dreamtime lived up to a few centuries ago,
As it nears the Pacific ocean it seems to crawl at a snail's pace
Slowly it flows to saltwater onwards to it's destined place
By the sandhills and the sand dunes surrounding the ocean shore
The waterway known as the Powlett will flow on forever more,
Through the old Lands of the Dreamtime once home of the Bunurong
Where in the quiet of the morning shrike thrush whistles his beautiful song
Powlett the dusky old river as old as old father time
Has been flowing down from the hills of Kilcunda centuries before poets learned how to rhyme
And it will flow on forever to the sea babble it's way
Down through the old scrubby country in darkness of night and in light of day.

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