The Yarra Ranges

The poets and the artists the wooded hills inspire The hills of the Yarra Ranges of the old Sherbrooke Shire In my wild flights of fancy I hear the lyrebird sing In the damp depths of Winter long before the first of Spring The horn of Puffing Billy as ever sounds so shrill The old Belgrave to Gembrook steam train goes puffing up the hill Dark smoke from it's emission pipe rise upwards to the sky Quite visible for miles around in weather clear and warm and dry The call of the kookaburras is an unmelodious air Around the wooded hillsides these creatures are not rare And the flute like song of the gray butcherbird one never could mistake He tunes his pipe at morning as the dawn begins to break In the old Yarra Ranges from here many miles away But in fancy I am back there in the wooded hills today