The first sun shines at half past four
The red dirt makes a grass-less floor
This is a life of unique brand
For him they call “the Kimberley man”.
The fans are never cool enough
On leathered skin built Kimberley tough
But how do you tell the tourist fleet
You never get used to Kimberley heat.
But there’s a thinking that takes it slow
In rhythm with Ord River’s flow
There’s more to life than comfort and money
Like fishing for Barra without the hurry.
Albino gekko’s’ eat the flys
While the blue tailed kooka’s laughs and crys
Crocs and dragons and wallabies too
Live with the Owl who gives two hoots.
The Kimberley man is silently proud
Like a Kimberley king with a Kimberley crown
Of views a virtuoso would say
Is fit for a concert that he would play.
Wet season build up is only released
By cracking black clouds that sets you free
From humid sighs in front of the fan
And the unsaid life of the Kimberley man.