Way out in western Queensland,
Where the land is flat and red,
There’s a little town called Yowah,
And it’s where I’ve made my bed.

It’s a place where rock hounds noodle,
And dig with pick and spade,
They emu bob around the fields,
Their back aches will not fade.

But Ian at the van park has a treat
That cures the lot,
The tub of min’ral water
That’s deep, and fresh and hot.

Now lying back the other day
T’was blissful and sublime,
Just lying there and gazing up
At the sky for quite a time.

And overhead the branches
Of a spotted leopard tree,
Sheltered a black raven
That sang a song to me.

It was for me a lovely treat,
The hard day’s aches dissolved,
Until I heard a clapping,
From next door it had evolved.

I wondered at the purpose,
Of my neighbour bathing there,
Until I felt a little plop,
That landed in my hair.

The flapping of the raven’s wings,
The laughter from next door,
Told of why he clapped his hands,
So I washed my hair once more.