The sun peers o’er you wooded ridge and thro’ the forest
dense,
Its golden edge o’er the mountain ledge looks down on the
stockyard fence,
Looks down, looks down, looks down on the stockyard fence;
And dark creeks rush thro’ the tangled brush, when their
shuddering shadows throng
Until they chime in the rude rough rhyme of the wild
goburra’s song.

Chorus

Till they chime, ha! ha! till they chime, ha! ha! in the
wild goburra’s song;
Till they chime, ha! ha! till they chime, ha! ha! in the
wild goburra’s song.

The night owl to her home hath fled, to shun the glorious
pomp
Of golden day she speeds away to her nest in the tea-tree
swamp;
Away, away to her nest in the tea-tree swamp.

The dingo looks with a timid stare as he stealthily prowls
along,
And his pattering feet in concert beat with the wild goburra’s
song.

Chorus: And they beat, ha! ha! &c.

Oh! let them boast their city’s wealth, who toil in a dusty
town;
Give me the beam on the mountain stream, and the range’s
dark-faced frown—
The stream, the stream, and the range’s dark-faced frown.
When our steed shall pass o’er the quiv’ring grass, and the
crack of the sounding thong
Shall bid the startled echoes join the wild goburra’s song.

Chorus: And they join, ha! ha! &c.