He love the unfenced land of his World flat and wide
The buzzing of the flies in his own countryside
The yap of the wild dog just as the sun goes down
The silence of the sky far from the lights of town.

His people had lived here for sixty thousand years or more
Before the paler types came from that distant shore
To claim the Land as theirs yet in his tribal song
The land was always here and the land to none belong.

He love the wide brown land of the country sparse in trees
To lay beside a rock and shelter from sun and breeze
And live the carefree life free of the clock's dictate
In one of the few places where time can be left to wait.

He love the tribal songs and the old corroboree
And the Dreamtime stories by the campfire with his kin and family
And hear the male roos cough in the stillness of the night
In the brown timeless land amongst the peace and quiet.

In the wide brown outback the land of the big sky
In this land he was born and in this land he will die
One of the last few Aussies his history he can trace
Back to the ancient Dreamtime of Australia's oldest race.

Francis Duggan

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