Oh sing me a song of the brown creek from the hill
That flows by the country town and the old grain mill
On it's long journey to the big river to the Pacific shore
A journey destined to last for forever more
Where the magpie is warbling on a sunlit gum tree
And the dainty black and white magpie lark sings his familiar pee wee
It has flowed to the river long before the first people came
And long before the big southern country was given a name
To the big river by night and by day
That flows to the ocean from the foot of the brown hill far away
How old is the old creek would anyone know?
It has flowed for centuries before the birth of the first roo or kookaburra or crow
By the old grain mill in the old country town
It babbles on slowly through paddocks of brown.