Across Australia's rugged land,
In ranges, gorgeous, sweeping planes,
Thunders a race as native as man:
As wild as wind and as free as the flight of a bird.
A symbol of courage, a symbol of strength,
Brumbies of cunning, of roaming, of mystery.
Once undisturbed, left galloping free,
The mob now must wary and cautious be.
For capture and death to the foolish must come.
"Their numbers are out of control;
"They're trampling our delicate bogs.
"The brumbies must go, to be shot or be sold."
Stop! 'Tis outrageous and dangerous!
The brumbies have been since the white man was seen,
They belong to the land just as much as does man.
So leave them to whinny, to gallop, to fly,
Leave them in peace, before they're all gone.
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