OLD MAN PLATYPUS by A.B. "Banjo" Paterson

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!