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!

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