The Mighty Murry

The Mighty Murray

By Katlyn Bailey - Feb 17 2012

Beneath the Great Dividing Range,

Flows a river some may find quite strange.

Winding from the snowy heights

From where our brumbies take their flights,

Traversing green and sodden plain, 

Collecting creek-let to it’s gain.

The mighty Murray runs it’s course,

Departing from it’s mountain source.

It’s felt the breeze by Kosciosko’s side,

And blessed the reed-beds with it’s tide.

The many creatures of this land,

Drink existence from it’s hand.

A stockman halts his steed to drink,

And rests a spell to let his back un-kink.

And the mighty Murray goes it’s way,

Changing scenes from day to day.

Sometimes it’s soft and meditative,

Others rude and devistative.

The river owns and plays it’s moods,

Content if humans don’t intrude.

But sometimes people loose their minds,

You’d really think they were quite blind.

And the mighty Murray looses pace,

In the rapid ecosystem’s race.

There are troubles in the stream, 

But nothings perfect it would seem.

Yet if not badgered but let alone,

It’s song will never cease it’s drone.

And the river’s presence will remain,

Going on from rain to rain.

And the mighty Murray’s yarn will drum,

For generations yet to come.

*All photos from Google Images