Memories Of Home

Memories Of Home


On the banks of the Barcoo,
Sits an old country town.
The place I was born,
But did not settle down.

The Matilda Highway runs through it,
From the east to the west.
Along Shamrock Street, the main drag,
The sun rises and sets.

Pioneers mapped Queensland,
From atop The Black Stump.
There's the old Historic Woolscour,
Out of town, just past the dump.

It's where a man became a legend,
Jackie Howe, shore all those sheep.
Three hundred- twenty one, in one day
Despite the blistering outback heat.

The Mighty Barcoo, she occasionally fills,
With a torrent that bursts her banks.
Where gasps of wonder can be heard,
And with tears, farmers give thanks.

At a constant 58 degrees,
It bubbles from under the ground.
The Great Artesian Basin, that's where
The towns water can be found.

When dry from the drought,
And all seems forlorn.
Come to town all the emus,
To pick on green lawn.

Blackall is the town,
For which I do speak.
Don't just drive through it,
Pull up, have a peek.

Now don't take my word for it,
Cause there's more that I could say.
'Bout the little town called Blackall,
Out along the Matilda Highway.