Dalwallinu has come to life with brilliant yellow flowers,
It’s time to welcome back again the wattle in profusion;
In the paddock, down the road, the golden laden bowers,
Create a magic all of their own, a wonderful illusion.
I’m sure it was a wattle fairy prancing ‘neath the branches,
She pirouetted, swayed and twirled, upon her twinkling toes,
And then was joined by many more, a myriad of dances;
I stood so silent, so enthralled, before the dream should go.
Along the track an elf I spied, he too was dressed in yellow,
He had some friends, who rolled along the pebbles on the ground,
They jumped them, spun them, laughed and bellowed;
How I wished they’d call me to join them in their round.
It must have been an apparition, but this is how things go,
For if you travel down the road when the wattle blooms for free,
You’re sure to feel the magic of this very special show,
In the springtime, in Dalwallinu, in wattle country.