A round Eucalyptus bark, gather,
B reathless groups of men, dark as cocoa,
O verlooking a rusty dome, Uluru, it is called.
R emembering an adolescence of gleaning,
I ndustrious in harnessing the abracadabra of a land;
G oing for a bath to a billabong, to a high on pituri,
I ndigenous, and still loyal to a land of fire. Proof that,
N o pale-skinned invaders can overthrow, ‘
E ons of midnight skin and sunny eyes at noon,
S howing to the white man, who encroached;
Dreamtime, is our own welfare system,
Made of sun woman & moon man,
Casuarina thickets & muddy waterholes,
While our perspiring bodies,
Fleet through the parched outback,
As spirit-powered utes.