Tumut
Takee
Murriwillumba
Bowral
Ballarat
Mullengudgery
Murrurundi
Wagga-Wagga
Wyalong
Murrumbidgee
Goomeroo
Wolloway
Wangary
Wanilla
Worrow
Koppio
Yankalilla
Yaranyacka
Yackamoorundie
Kaiwaka
Coomooroo
Tauranga
Geelong
Tongariro
Kaikoura
Wakatipu
Oohipara
Waitpinga
Goelwa
Munno Para
Nangkita
Myponga
Kapunda
Kooringa
Penola
Nangwarry
Kongorong
Comaum
Koolywurtie
Killanoola
Naracoorte
Muloowurtie
Binnum
Wallaroo
Wirrega
Mundoora
Hauraki
Rangiriri
Teawamute
Taranaki
Toowoomba
Goondiwindi
Jerrilderie
Whangaroa
Wollongong
Woolloomooloo
Bombola
Coolgardie
Bendigo
Coonamble
Cootamundra
Woolgoolga

Mittagong
Jamberoo
Kondoparinga
Kuitpo
Tungkillo
Oukaparinga
Talunga
Yatala
Parawirra
Moorooroo
Whangarei
Woolundunga
Booleroo
Pernatty
Parramatta
Taroom
Narrandera
Deniliquin
Kawakawa.

It may be best to build the poem now, and make the weather help

A sweltering day in Australia.

          (To be read soft and low, with the lights turned down.)

               The Bombola faints in the hot Bowral tree,
               Where fierce Mullengudgery’s smothering fires
               Far from the breezes of Coolgardie
               Burn ghastly and blue as the day expires;

               And Murriwillumba complaineth in song
               For the garlanded bowers of Woolloomooloo,
               And the Ballarat Fly and the lone Wollongong
               They dream of the gardens of Jamberoo;

               The wallabi sighs for the Murrubidgee,
               For the velvety sod of the Munno Parah,
               Where the waters of healing from Muloowurtie
               Flow dim in the gloaming by Yaranyackah;

               The Koppio sorrows for lost Wolloway,
               And sigheth in secret for Murrurundi,
               The Whangeroo wombat lamenteth the day
               That made him an exile from Jerrilderie;

               The Teawamute Tumut from Wirrega’s glade,
               The Nangkita swallow, the Wallaroo swan,
               They long for the peace of the Timaru shade
               And thy balmy soft airs, O sweet Mittagong!

               The Kooringa buffalo pants in the sun,
               The Kondoparinga lies gaping for breath,
               The Kongorong Camaum to the shadow has won,
               But the Goomeroo sinks in the slumber of death;

               In the weltering hell of the Moorooroo plain
               The Yatala Wangary withers and dies,
               And the Worrow Wanilla, demented with pain,
               To the Woolgoolga woodlands despairingly flies;