There's an old rhyme that pits out time take it for what it's worth
Things are crook at Tallarook and there ain't no work in Burke
But we still find room for the many who come a-knockin' at our door
And we sell our wide brown acres without a second thought
Some will say we are building a nation rich and strong
But if you take a closer look at it perhaps we've got it wrong
Makes you think maybe we're a bit crazy doing it quite so hard
Shouldn't be a crime to take the time to clean up our own backyard
In the country towns and the land around, in the city streets and slums
The dreamtime lore has gone before and the walkabout is done
On the streets at night you see the plight of our old ones and our young
And the Salvo refugge overflows, but still the people come
Just a little drop of caring in an ocean of neglect
Can't stem the tide of anger from the lost and dispossessed
In the land of promise keepin' our promise gets to be too hard
Shouldn't be a crime to take the time to clean up our own backyard
Make you think maybe we're a bit crazy doing it quite so hard
Shouldn't be a crime to take the time to clean up our own backyard