Where The Powlett Flow

It was an old Countryside I used to know Where from the hills of Kilcunda the old Powlett flow Through the land that was once owned by the Bunurong That often inspires poets to poetry and song, The high cliffs of Kilcunda overlooking the sea Such beautiful views to live in memory And back from the cliffs in the shade of the trees The indigenous tribes had their corroborees Long before the dinosaurs or the first people came For to live in this Country that then did not have a name Through scrubland and sand dunes flowing on ceaselessly The Powlett it crawled it's way on to the sea And in fancy I'm by the old Powlett once more As it gurgles it's way to the Pacific shore.