Banjo Paterson

Old Man Platypus

Far from the trouble and toil of town, Where the reed beds sweep and shiver, Look at a fragment of velvet brown– Old Man Platypus drifting down, Drifting along the river. And he plays and dives in the river bends In a style that is most elusive; With few relations and fewer friends, For Old Man Platypus descends From a family most exclusive. He shares his burrow beneath the bank With his wife and his son and daughter At the roots of the reeds and the grasses rank; And the bubbles show where our hero sank To its entrance under water. Safe in their burrow below the falls They live in a world of wonder, Where no one visits and no one calls, They sleep like little brown billiard balls With their beaks tucked neatly under. And he talks in a deep unfriendly growl As he goes on his journey lonely; For he’s no relation to fish nor fowl, Nor to bird nor beast, nor to horned owl; In fact, he’s the one and only!

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