Written by Dick Roberts
The bush has gotten smaller,
Nowhere left to dissappear,
And nowhere left to hide.
Behind the march of progress,
There’s something left behind,
Something lost forever,
Yet there’s nothing more to find.
The creeks have all been mapped out,
The mountain ranges crossed.
No more undiscovered country,
Underneath this southern cross.
Take me back,
To a place I didn’t know,
A place left undiscovered,
Underneath the winter snow.
Where the mopoke breaks the silence,
In the coolness of the night.
Where the brumbies are a grazing,
Beneath the stars that shine so bright.
Where the dingoes start a howling,
When mating time is on,
And the wallaby feeds in the bush,
As the gang gangs sing their songs.
Take me back,
To a place I didn’t know,
A place left undiscovered,
Underneath the winter snow.
Where the morning fog is waiting,
To rise up from the creek,
To only dissappear,
So quickly, yet so meek.
Where the snow grass grows wild,
Out on the windy plains,
And the hop scrub lines the hill sides,
Underneath the southern rains.
Take me back,
To a place I didn’t know,
A place left undiscovered,
Underneath the winter snow.
Where the morning fog is waiting,
To rise up from the creek,
To only dissappear,
So quickly, yet so meek.
Where the morning fog is waiting,
To rise up from the creek,
To only dissappear,
So quickly, yet so meek.
Nelle's journey 