Saturday, March 8, 2008

Where The Powlett Flows Down To The Sea Comments

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The lark he rise above the rank scrub and he carols as upward he fly
And as he ascends he grows smaller till he disappears in the sky
And in the quiet of the mid morning his song seems so peaceful to me
In that old brown and beautiful country where the Powlett flows down to the sea.
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Francis Duggan
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