| In the days of great explorers
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| Ludwig Leichhardt rose to fame
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| He saw this country’s beauty
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| Before the settlers came
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| The water holes were full of fish
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| He saw the emus run
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| And wildfowl rose in millions
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| Till they hid the rising sun
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| He camped among the woodlands
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| Untouched by white man’s hands
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| Swam unpolluted rivers
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| And trod their unmarked sands
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| The wild sand of the bushland
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| Soaked deep into his chest
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| His horses grazed new pastures
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| As he headed north by west
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| Let me take a page from history
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| And write this land again
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| Or I’d like to see this country
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| Just as Leichhardt saw it then
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| He didn’t that know that progress
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| Would rape this virgin scene
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| And change the face of nature
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| With pests and foreign weeds
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| He couldn’t see as we have seen
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| Our topsoil disappear
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| From fires and overstocking
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| And scrub being pulled each year
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| His vision never pictured the future would unfold
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| The side of old car bodies and litter on our roads
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| Back where the silent blue gums stood
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| And native bears would peer
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| We now hear rows of traffic like an insult to our ear
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| Let me take a page from history
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| And write this land again
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| Or I’d like to see this country
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| Just as Leichhardt saw it then
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| Perhaps there’s few of us who care
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| Or dream about the past
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| We’re busy doing better with our modern ways so fast
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| But should they grant to me a wish
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| Before I meet my end
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| Oh, I’d like to see this country
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| Just as Leichhardt saw it then
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| Let me take a page from history
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| And write this land again
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| 'Cause I’d like to see this country
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| Oh I’d like to see this country (yeah)
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| Oh I’d like to see this country
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| Just as Leichhardt saw it then |