Written by Dick Roberts
As the moon rises over the mountains,
And starts to glistens on the frost,
We all gather here in springtime,
To remember those we’ve lost.
We remember the pioneers,
That in this place we all call home,
That built an industry out of nothing,
Their names now carved in stone.
We remember all the settlers,
That came from far and wide,
That built the town of Batlow,
The town with so much pride.
From the gold miners, to bullockies,
That hauled the mountain ash in,
To the those that drove draught horses
That hauled the apple bins.
To those that built the houses,
The schools and the library,
To those that educated our children,
In a country so young and free.
To all the families that sacraficed
Their sons to foreign wars,
Their legacy remembered
Forever here in this hall.
To all the cannery workers,
That worked day and night,
To support Mountain Maid.
Although now lost, it wasn’t without a fight.
Pink Ladies and Galas
May now be all the rage,
But Jonathans, and delicious
Were both kings once on that stage.
From Geraldine to the white gates,
And out to old Ardrossan,
There’s so much history here tonight,
That should never be forgotten.
The Mouats, Hides, Quambys and Keenans
Just to name a few,
Built this town that we all love,
And tonight we’ll share a brew.
But now as my time is ending,
I ask that you all raise a glass
And say thankyou to all the pioneers,
Your legacy will forever last.
Nelle's journey 