Down In The Salt-pan Country

Down in the salt-pan country the salt-pans white as snow
Grow bigger with the passing of the Seasons where only salt-bush grow
Where few people come to visit and wildlife is quite rare
And scarce enough of grass about for to sustain a hare

In the lonely salt-pan country the ground is cracked and dry
And most days the sun is burning in the clear and blue sky
Where countless little bush flies in the warm air buzz around
And billions of tiny dark ants crawl on the sun baked ground

Such life forms that in cold and wet climates do struggle to survive
But in the salt pan country in huge numbers they thrive
Perhaps in years to come in climate change the only life forms the dry country will sustain
Where the salt-pans grow bigger there never is much rain

Down in the salt-pan country in the Summer of the year
The buzzing of the bush flies the only sound that one does hear
The warm winds of the ocean across the dry lands blow
Of the lonely salt-pan country where only salt-bush grow.