E                        A
Albert Namatjira painted not so much the things he saw
    E                                                  B7
But what he felt inside and how he loved the Flinders Range
    E                             A
The only thing he ever wanted the reason that he painted for
         E                             B7               E
Was that everybody share the dream his land would never change
                                                A
Ah But change it did and through the years they introduced some foreign plants
  E                                                        B7
Familiar things are strange while strangers play upon the lawn
    E                                  A
And mother land has shed her tears for lives that never stood a chance
    E                          B7                    E
And Albert Namatjira cried, as we all cry the Native Born


   B7                             A
So bow your head old eucalypt and wattle tree
  E                 B7           E
Australia's bush is losing it's identity
          B7                                   A
While the cities and the parks that they have planned
                                               E
Look out of place because the spirit's in the land
     A                                         E
Look out of place because the spirit's in the land


                                 A
Do you remember Joseph Banks who stood upon this sacred earth
    E                                             B7
And what he felt inside when he looked around and saw
    E                                   A
the land to whom we give our thanks our mother land who's given birth 
   E                                 B7          E
To trees and plants and animals he'd never seen before?


   B7                             A
So bow your head old eucalypt and wattle tree
  E                 B7           E
Australia's bush is losing it's identity
          B7                                   A
While the cities and the parks that they have planned
                                               E
Look out of place because the spirit's in the land
     A                                         E
Look out of place because the spirit's in the land

                                     A
But no one knows or no one hears the way we used to sing and dance
    E                                                         B7
And how the gum trees stood and stretched to greet the golden morn
    E                                     A
and mother land still sheds her tears for lives that never stood a chance
    E                         B7                    E
And Albert Namatjira cried as we all cry the native born
   B7             E
We cry the native born