Down In The Salt-Pan Country

Down in the salt-pan country the salt-pans white as snow Grow bigger with the passing of the Seasons where only salt-bush grow Where few people come to visit and wildlife is quite rare And scarce enough of grass about for to sustain a hare In the lonely salt-pan country the ground is cracked and dry And most days the sun is burning in the clear and blue sky Where countless little bush flies in the warm air buzz around And billions of tiny dark ants crawl on the sun baked ground Such life forms that in cold and wet climates do struggle to survive But in the salt pan country in huge numbers they thrive Perhaps in years to come in climate change the only life forms the dry country will sustain Where the salt-pans grow bigger there never is much rain Down in the salt-pan country in the Summer of the year The buzzing of the bush flies the only sound that one does hear The warm winds of the ocean across the dry lands blow Of the lonely salt-pan country where only salt-bush grow.