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Travel


I’ve been to the desert with its red red sand and seen the ghost gum white
with branches spread and branches dead and the dead ones black as night.
I’ve heard loud birds in dead gum trees and watched as they took flight;
Saw the morning sun through the mist and gum and marvelled at the sight.

Where the rocks are red as the hearts that bled
for the land that they once knew,
stories told of a dreamtime old
were lost and their cost is due.

But the gums were plucked,
and billabongs sucked,
and like the bounding kangaroo

they saw the whiteman’s gun in the morning sun,
and faces hard and cruel,

and the rocks ran red
and their hearts all bled
for the land that they once knew.

I’ve been to the desert with its red red sand and seen the ghost gum white
with branches spread and branches dead and the dead ones black as night.
I have seen old dreams in the rocks and trees when the sun is shining bright;
Saw it fading fast like a blood red past and marvelled at the sight.

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