An old tribal warrior
Stares across his picturesque country
Far as his failing eyes can see
Wondering what's going to happen
To his beautiful place
Knowing what will happen to him.

Will my tribe forget the tradition?
Our totem and our songs?
Will my land be taken away from us?
For development grazing rights?
And venture for new mines
Where will all my tribe go?
Will they understand?

Oh spirit of my ancestral dreaming
Guide them to keep our tribal land
And keep on with our tradition
The lingo of my clan.

I hang my head in sorrow now
Time for me to go
I hear the didgeridoo and clapstick
Boomerang last corroboree.

Sadly in my heart knows
May my spirit watch over my clan
For now I leave my tribal land. [1]