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 Her shallow breath, just audible, she' s gasping in her pain.

Sweet memories stir her slumber with a gentle flush of rain.

Her strength and power, all but gone; she's lost so much she bore.

A rich and vibrant entity that almost is no more

But not because she can' t be saved; her life has been deferred.

Is it weakness? Lack of caring? Hearts of stone that won' t be stirred?

Were your promises as shallow as the river in her pain?

Will you stand up and be brave enough to give her life again?


Or will money greed and power simply sentence her to die

While the world looks on in horror and they ask the question 'Why?'

Will you silence those that mock you or just laugh, ignore and gloat?

Will you make good on your promises or squeeze her parched, dry throat?


Would you pass a dying stranger, just ignore her gasps for life?

Would you simply not acknowledge your own Mother, Daughter, Wife?

She' s a Mother to the ranges; she's a Daughter of the snows,

She' s a nurturing Wife and Lover to the land through which she flows.


Will the "Man from Snowy River" be the "Man from Snowy Swamp"?

As our river lies there choking while the pollies rant and romp!

Your grand promises were 'plentiful' environmental flow

But she ended up with 'Bugger-all' , where did the water go???


How can the people ever trust whilst politicians lie?

They promise ˜life eternal , then sentence her to die.

Lets give 'The Snowy' back her life, 'Mowamba Weirs' a start,

When will our river flow again, or don' t they have a heart???