In this wide brown land of ours there is a seed that has been sown
with magical properties yet to be known.
It blazes gold upon the earth
heralds the passing of winter and the hope and joy of spring to come.
Yet before it blooms it must endure the harshness of the environment.
It undergoes the flame of fire before it into the earth transpires and in growth unfolds its beauty for all to behold.
The Master sower has decreed that the wattle will be ours to see and heed.
For as with the seasons of our land so how alike are the seasons of man.
Please heed the beauty of our land and as with the wattle celebrate,
this season of man.
Let the gold of each man shine forth as the land and give to each
other hope and joy.
As with the diggers of old let
us go below for the gold.
For it will come from within.
You have but to find the provider.
In this season I am sure there will be another you meet by thought,
word or deed try to satisfy his need.
For the dejected, a smile, the weary, a hand, the foe, a friend,
the successful, a clap or the meek, a wink.
Perhaps your neighbour needs a beer or the passerby, a ‘Gaday’.
Be your giving big or small it matters not at all.
But this I do charge
it is of the essence at the start tell no one of your gift and do not feel proud of it.
In this way I plead
as the wattle blossoms gold to celebrate the changing seasons of our land
let us blossom gold to celebrate the changing seasons of man.