Dingo creek is flowing,
To the Manning River going,
Wide and flooded as she moves between the ranges and the hills.
With all the gullies gushing,
Silver streams of water rushing,
As wondrous welcome constant rain, each hole and hollow fills.

The mountainside is singing,
With the rain the clouds are bringing,
As corridors of water stream down to the valley floor.
On the banks the branches lying,
Now down the creek go flying,
A swilling, swirling, torrent turns the river to a roar.

The sagging oaks are dripping,
In raging waters whipping
The light brown froth to whirlpools, that spin the sticks on end.
While logs and branches travel,
Deflected by the gravel,
Piling up as forging forces carve out the river's bend

And spearing headlong, crashing,
The flotsam, jetsam splashing
Down to a lower level, as Dingo creek roars on.
It shows no compromising,
The river just keeps rising–
Climbing banks and trunks of trees, its twisting form now gone.

At midnight I awaken,
The whole wide world is shaken
By thunder, sending tremors through the native life and trees.
Through rain from skyward falling,
I hear the distant calling
Of storm birds, and while dozing, sense the drenching cloudburst ease.

 
And overnight the ceasing
Of rain, has caused decreasing
In levels of the water, now a deep and murky brown.
With mud soaked banks appearing,
The sounds of birds I'm hearing–
From soaking bush and pasture, where moisture still runs down.

Dear Dingo creek keep flowing,
May seeds of life keep growing,
Will they learn their lesson and not pump you dry again.
Run to the sea forever,
May human greed not sever
The ancient cord of living, that comes with joyous rain.