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Vonda Stanley's collection of early Australian bush poems


Old Man Platypus



Far from the trouble and toil of town,

Where the reed beds sweep and shiver,

Look at a fragment of velvet brown -

Old Man Platypus drifting down,

Drifting along the river.


And he plays and dives in the river bends

In a style that is most elusive;

With few relations and fewer friends,

For Old Man Platypus descends

From a family most exclusive.


He shares his burrow below the falls

They live in a world of wonder,

Where no one visits and no one calls,

They sleep like little brown billiard balls

With their beaks tucked neatly under.


And he talks in a deep unfriendly growl

As he goes on his journey lonely;

For he's no relation to fish nor fowl,

Nor to bird nor beast, nor to horned owl;

In fact, he's the one and only!


A. B. Paterson  

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