Far from the trouble and toil of town, <br />Where the reed beds sweep and shiver, <br />Look at a fragment of velvet brown - <br />Old Man Platypus drifting down, <br />Drifting along the river. <br /> <br />And he plays and dives in the river bends <br />In a style that is most elusive; <br />With few relations and fewer friends, <br />For Old Man Platypus descends <br />From a family most exclusive. <br /> <br />He shares his burrow beneath the bank <br />With his wife and his son and daughter <br />At the roots of the reeds and the grasses rank; <br />And the bubbles show where our hero sank <br />To its entrance under water. <br /> <br />Safe in their burrow below the falls <br />They live in a world of wonder, <br />Where no one visits and no one calls, <br />They sleep like little brown billiard balls <br />With their beaks tucked neatly under. <br /> <br />And he talks in a deep unfriendly growl <br />As he goes on his journey lonely; <br />For he's no relation to fish nor fowl, <br />Nor to bird nor beast, nor to horned owl; <br />In fact, he's the one and only!<br /><br />Banjo Paterson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-man-platypus-2/
