She’ll be right, mate – that’s how we roll,
Through heat and storms, we’re solid and whole.
With crocs in the creek and roos on the hill,
We push through the hard yards, steady and still.
No need for fussin’, no reason to wait,
We carry on strong with a “she’ll be right, mate.”
Koalas nap while the sprinklers spin,
Kids run wild with mozzie-bit skin.
Mates drop by just to lend a hand,
No need to ask – they understand.
From reef to the range, from beaches to bush,
We live with the land, not in a rush.
