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At the Melting of the Snow

 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.

by Andrew Barton Paterson
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