We Are Going - Oodgeroo Noonucal

November 12, 2009

They came in to the little town
A semi-naked band subdued and silent
All that remained of their tribe.
They came here to the place of their old bora ground
Where now the many white men hurry about like ants.
Notice of the estate agent reads: 'Rubbish May Be Tipped Here'.
Now it half covers the traces of the old bora ring.
'We are as strangers here now, but the white tribe are the strangers.
We belong here, we are of the old ways.
We are the corroboree and the bora ground,
We are the old ceremonies, the laws of the elders.
We are the wonder tales of Dream Time, the tribal legends told.
We are the past, the hunts and the laughing games, the wandering camp fires


 

I Love A Sunburnt Country

November 12, 2009
The love of field and coppice,
  Of green and shaded Lanes,
  Of ordered woods and gardens,
  Is running in your veins;
  Strong love of grey-blue distance,
  Brown streams and soft, dim skies -
  I know but cannot share it,
  My love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country,
  A land of sweeping plains,
  Of ragged mountain ranges,
  Of drought and flooding rains,
  I love her far horizons,
  I love her jewel sea,
  Her beauty and her terror -
  The wide brown land for me

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