Sitting on top of our hill watching the sun set west on the horizon,
Feeling the cool ocean breeze blowing from Point Samson,
Overlooking our tiny town that we call Yirramagadu,
But outsiders, they call it Roebourne.
Our town maybe small, our town maybe tiny,
But Roebourne is my home where you'd always find me.
Roebourne, being small ain't no disadvantage,
For we are many, with a hugely strong heritage.
Our culture shall always remain when most of us are all gone,
But our songs and our dance will forever carry on.
Hunting, fishing and camping is a great pass-time,
But for many of us, it is our life line.
The Great Iron Snake rolls through our country, taking pieces
Of our neighbours' lands, out across the seas.
Towns pop up here and there,
The mining boom has hit – strangers everywhere.
Times may have changed from the outside world,
So we have learnt to adapt, with our surrounds.
To many people, changing with these new times can be hard, but fear not, 
Cause you are not alone, for we have a strong history and culture that shall forever stand so proud.
Roebourne, our tiny town that lays in the shadow of a mountain,
Is home to many people in this beautiful and special Ngarluma Nation.
Roebourne is a place where our ancestors once roamed,
Roebourne is Roebourne, the place I and many proudly call home.
Sitting on the banks of the Harding River,
Our town has survived through all sorts of weather.
Droughts, cyclones, floods and storms,
Roebourne was built very strong, on a solid foundation,
Our tiny town, in the shadow of a mountain.
They say Roebourne comes alive all but once a year, 
To the thundering hoofs racing around the track, to the punters' cheer.
When you all packed up and gone back to your homes,
Take a second and have a thought about to where you have just been –
Roebourne, our tiny town, which you have just seen.

Thank you Landon for sharing your poem!