| Oh, hushed are the voices and grey are the skies
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| And many the teardrops fall from dark and saddened eyes
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| And many fair brothers will stand with bowed head
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| For the message came this morning, Namatjira is dead
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| Oh, the stairs that Namatjira climbed are to the Hall of Fame
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| And there he left upon its wall a true Australian name
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| His paintings are of God’s own country where it’s people claim
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| The stairs that Namatjira climbed are to the Hall of Fame
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| The Golden Stairs of Fame
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| Among our great artists and heros of fame
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| We’ll always remember and honour his name
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| He painted this country for the whole world to see
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| He painted Australia just as it should be
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| Oh, the stairs that Namatjira climbed are to the Hall of Fame
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| And there he left upon its wall a true Australian name
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| His paintings are of God’s own country where it’s people claim
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| The stairs that Namatjira climbed are to the Hall of Fame
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| The Golden Stairs of Fame
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| For Australia’s dark sons, no prouder have they been
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| Than the day that Namatjira shook the hand of the Queen
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| Near the home that he loved so well he’s sleeping 'neath the flowers
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| In the land of his Fathers that is his and ours
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| Oh, the stairs that Namatjira climbed are to the Hall of Fame
|
| And there he left upon its wall a true Australian name
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| His paintings are of God’s own country where it’s people claim
|
| The stairs that Namatjira climbed are to the Hall of Fame
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| The Golden Stairs of Fame |