Fair are the Dandenongs low to the eastward lying,
Where the early cuckoos are crying.
Now, and the bellbird's fairy songs
Are ringing along the hill on the rich air warm and scenty.
Hills may be higher aplenty
But these are the Dandenongs.
The beautiful Dandenongs that beckon the city-weary;
Ever so cool and airy.
The road that the saplings throngs
In murmurous multitudes, and the lyre-birds' mocking sallies
Are heard in the hazel gullies,
Back of the Dandenongs.
Blue are the Dandenongs, hazy against the high line
Of the morning's opal skyline
Where the light-wood blossom belongs
And the wreaths lie white once more on many an orchard arbor.
You have your Bridge and your Harbour -
But we have the Dandenongs.
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 24 September 1938
