An April Morning In Kilcunda

Above the brown scrubland of Kilcunda the skylark not singing today
Where slowly and silently the dark Powlett River towards the Pacific slowly crawls on it's way
On a wattle tree that has lived for many Seasons the black and white magpie with the silver bill
Is warbling in the gray of the morning in a place where time seems to stand still
The countryside by Powlett River was very old even in the Dreamtime
It has inspired generations of artists and writers of it to sketch and pen stories and rhyme
It was old in the age of the dinosaurs and old long before the first human beings to live in it came
For the countryside now known as Kilcunda they did have a different name
The first tribe of coastal South Gippsland were known by the name of the Bunurong
They were expert hunters and gatherers remembered in story and song
They were of an oral tradition their history never written down
For to be their region's first people is ever their claim to renown
On an April morning by Powlett River the sun hidden behind clouds of gray
The brown songster of the sky is silent the lark is not singing today.