Anda di halaman 1dari 1

The Rocks of Inverloch

Elizabeth Sheppard 3/12/2004 Theres a beach down in Australia, they call it Inverloch; At Christmas time the children come, to play upon the rocks, Where sea pools glow with magic, as the waves sing a lullaby, Where castles are built on the shining sands, as the sunset lights the sky, As the sunset lights the sky. For we live in a dreamtime country, in tents not made with hands, That are folded up and carried into the Promised Land, We are travellers and pilgrims, with staff and scallop shell, In a land of lakes and coolamons, where dreamtime people dwell, Where dreamtime people dwell.

The dreamtime peoples story is written on the rocks, And in the mighty forests of the Gippsland timbertops, With firestick and bookah they travelled songline tracks, Like the boomerang returning, their spirits still come back, Their spirits still come back. For we live in a dreamtime country, in tents not made with hands, That are folded up and carried into the Promised Land, We are travellers and pilgrims, with staff and scallop shell, In a land of lakes and coolamons, where dreamtime people dwell, Where dreamtime people dwell.