The Melting of the Snow

By Andrew Barton Paterson

There's a sunny Southern land,

And it's there that I would be

Where the big hills stand,

In the South Countrie!

When the wattles bloom again,

Then it's time for us to go

To the old Monaro country

At the melting of the snow.

To the East or to the West,

Or wherever you may be,

You will find no place

Like the South Countrie.

For the skies are blue above,

And the grass is green below,

In the old Monaro country

At the melting of the snow.

Now the team is in the plough,

And the thrushes start to sing,

And the pigeons on the bough

Sit a-welcoming the Spring.

So come my comrades all,

Let us saddle up and go

To the old Monaro country

At the melting of the snow.