I'II tell you a tale of the Mallee,
A tale going back forty years,
Of the hopes, and the sad disappointments,
The life of the old pioneers.

It's a story of grim perserverance,
Of settlers who first took up land,
They cleared up the scrub and the Mallee,
And tried to grow wheat in the sand.

Their first home was often a shanty,
With a broom-bush veranda attached,
Some had a wife, and a family,
And those who were single, just batched.