At The Bluehole

At the Bluehole near Warrnambool the Hopkins crawls dark, silent and slow
Where into the pacific sea it does flow
A river that has inspired story and rhyme
That was even old in the dinosaur time
Where the first Australians fished and had their corroborees
Long before Cook's arrival going back centuries
When the Bluehole was known by some other name
But time does bring change and few things stay the same
In the gathering twilight just after sundown
At the Bluehole a few miles from Warrnambool Town
Peaceful and silent save for the Pacific's roar
As the huge white surf waves splash up on the southern shore
A memory for years to cherish and retain
And to visit again and again and again.