A relic from a bygone age The Steamer’s work has past Perhaps you heard the stories And indeed you ever asked ‘Great Grandpapa, remember When as a child you might Have seen in all her glory’ “Aye! A most romantic sight
To remote communities Back in those pioneer day The Padddleboat was the answer In so very many ways The river and her tributary To the interior supplied The means of trade and passage On which their lives relied
(Instrumental interlude)
From Goolwa and the coastal Lake They steamed the river course Past rolling downs, historic towns Reached only else by horse The landscape ever changing Where weeping willows wend And tall cliffs at the black swan reach Appear around the bend
There’s no intrusive engine growl And no one could mistake The churning paddles raising spray Left sparkling in the wake The only sign she’s passing Drifts behind her like a cloak To become an endless flowing veil A plume of white wood smoke
(Instrumental interlude)
Reaching into dryer parts The country now defined By countless red, regal gums Along the banks aligned Boats in every season plied In waters swelled by flood And sometimes in the dry upstream Left stranded in the mud
The Paddlesteamers’s glory days May have passed Modern transport road and rail Ordained they could not last Once proud vessels left to rot Under some old willow tree Nostalgic relics now All there remains to see
But some who would remember Dared to relive this dream They restored the romance That was power of steam Now anyone who wishes Come aboard the sights to see Along the mighty Murray Willows weep no more for me.
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