Well it was 1995 and I was a young boy, not old or wise.
So I took a ride down to the river to catch myself a Murray Cod,
I had some Bardi Grubs.

And there was nobody else in sight you would have thought I was the only boy alive
Then this man came with a gun in his hand he said "Watcha' doin' there boy on my land?" he said "You're tresspassin'"

I said "I did not know that you owned this land,
I thought it belonged to the Yorta Yorta Clan, the Yorta Yorta people"

Well he said "There aint no more of them coons alive, they started
killing them back in 1835, they started killing then"

Then e said "You have no right to be here boy, get off my land before I put a slug in your ass"

So I ran real fast.

And I grabbed my Rod and I rode away and i thought to myself
"This is strange, how can he own this land? He's just a farmer man, but this is Sacred land?

Sacred land!

When I rode back into town that night I could not sleep I was in fright

And when finally I got to sleep a tribal elder came to me in my dream

He said "How ya been?"

Then the farmer he appeared again with a twin barreled shotgun in his hands
And he pointed that gun to the elders head
and he said: "You niggers are better off dead!"
Then he told the elder to turn around and he pulled the trigger, he shot him down!

He shot him down!

Well the truth be known that we dont own this land, it belongs to the
Yorta Yorta clan

Lets give it back to them!

But the whiteman's never going to give it back cause he knows that its worth too much cash

And Its in the bank.

Meanwhile the river is dying and the government has not even tried,

To fix the evil.

That Major Mitchell!

Brought to this Land.