Sweet singer of an older land; Thro’ countless centuries A greener and a colder land Loved well by melodies; And with her venturers came I To seek beneath a sunny sky A home, and croon my lullaby Amid these alien trees. No interloper, scorning here The unfamiliar way; No exile, ever mourning here Joys of an older day; The feathered folk have welcomed me Into their joyous company To join their chorus, fluting free My ever liquid lay. At dawning and at evening Up from the gully floats My song, a gentle leavening To wilder woodland notes— Up from the gully ’mid the gums Where mountain torrents roll their drums I join the chorusing that comes From twice a hundred throats. Alien no longer, merrily My melodies I’ve brought; The bushland offers cheerily The sanctu’ry I’ve sought. And, where the swift creek sings and turns ’Mid wattle-trees and nodding ferns, My brood awakens and relearns The songs old England taught.