PALMWOODS
Where the Glasshouse Mountains lean, And April morning skies are grey, Where the grass grows lush and green Up Maleny way, The dairy cows graze on the hills Among the ring-barked gums. The clang of cow-bells rings and fills The valleys as the morning comes, And cows wend homeward to the bails For milking. Shouting children, barking dogs, And the resonating farmers’ hails Penetrate the morning fogs. Ah, to see those rolling hills, To hear the sound of cattle lowing, Ah, to see the sight that stills My heart, sets even time slowing. Ah, to sit beside the pond, At Palmwoods, where grandmother dreamed, And find the happiness she found, The wisdom and serenity it seemed She borrowed from the tranquil vale. The tall blue mountains seen afar, The range from where the rivers hail, And stream down to the ocean’s bar, The rolling hills, the cattle grazing, The ring-barked gums, the homesteads dotted, Sometimes a tree with cattle lazing, Here a field with crops allotted, Carve in my heart a memory, Waft in my mind like gentle song, And even when I cannot see, The vision spurs my spirit on. What will I do if urban spread Infringes on my childhood realm? The notion fills my heart with dread, That Progress might invade the calm, That ring-barked gums might crash and topple, Machines bulldoze the lush green hills, That men will herd and sell the cattle; Where one home stood a hundred will; Gone my tranquil childhood home, Gone memories of carefree days, Gone the richness; wasted loamNot just my dreams; the thought dismays Every dairy farmer here, Every man upon the land.
Against developers we fear We must make a certain stand. It’s a nation’s wealth we fight for, Wealth that serves a population, And it isn’t right for A few to rob the nation.
