[00:00.000] 作曲 : Chris Kemoter/Henry Lawson
[00:08.709]Ten miles down Reedy River
[00:13.169]a pool of water lies
[00:17.022]And all the year it mirrors
[00:21.029]the changes in the skies
[00:25.108]Within that pool's broad bosom
[00:28.480]is room for all the stars
[00:32.365]Its bed of sand has drifted o'er
[00:36.682]countless rocky bars
[00:40.327]Around the lower edges
[00:43.878]there waves a bed of reeds
[00:47.740]Where water-rats are hidden
[00:51.825]and where the wild duck breeds
[00:55.512]And grassy slopes rise gently
[00:59.417]to ridges long and low
[01:02.896]Where groves of wattle flourish
[01:06.883]and native bluebells grow
[01:10.611]Beneath the granite ridges
[01:14.271]the eye may just discern
[01:17.860]Where Rocky Creek emerges
[01:21.366]from deep green banks of fern
[01:25.235]And, standing tall between them
[01:29.039]the drooping she-oaks cool
[01:32.580]The hard, blue-tinted waters
[01:36.164]before they reach the pool
[01:47.340]Ten miles down Reedy River
[01:51.184]one Sunday afternoon
[01:55.094]I rode with Mary Campbell
[01:59.020]to that broad, bright lagoon
[02:02.882]We left our horses grazing
[02:06.440]'til shadows climbed the peak
[02:10.179]And strolled beneath the she-oaks
[02:14.007]on the banks of Rocky Creek
[02:17.755]Then home along the river
[02:21.499]that night we rode a race
[02:25.297]And the moonlight lent a glory
[02:29.305]to Mary Campbell's face
[02:33.016]I pleaded for my future
[02:36.704]all through that moonlight ride
[02:40.469]Until our weary horses
[02:44.272]drew closer side by side
[02:48.134]Ten miles from Ryan's Crossing
[02:51.795]and five below the peak
[02:55.872]I built a little homestead
[02:59.349]on the banks of Rocky Creek
[03:03.091]I cleared the land and fenced it
[03:06.901]and plowed the rich red loam
[03:11.110]My first crop was golden
[03:14.332]when I brought Mary home
[03:18.109]
[03:48.452]Now still down Reedy River
[03:52.364]the grassy she-oaks sigh
[03:55.869]The water holes still mirror
[03:59.874]the pictures in the sky
[04:03.844]The golden sand is drifting
[04:07.105]across the rocky bars
[04:10.853]And over all forever
[04:14.555]go sun and moon and stars
[04:18.364]But of the hut I built
[04:22.075]there are no traces now
[04:26.057]And many rains have leveled
[04:29.774]the furrows of my plow
[04:33.515]The glad bright days have vanished
[04:36.976]for somber branches wave
[04:40.969]Their wattle-blossom golden
[04:44.882]above my Mary's grave
[04:50.995]

作曲 : Chris Kemoter/Henry Lawson
Ten miles down Reedy River
a pool of water lies
And all the year it mirrors
the changes in the skies
Within that pool's broad bosom
is room for all the stars
Its bed of sand has drifted o'er
countless rocky bars
Around the lower edges
there waves a bed of reeds
Where water-rats are hidden
and where the wild duck breeds
And grassy slopes rise gently
to ridges long and low
Where groves of wattle flourish
and native bluebells grow
Beneath the granite ridges
the eye may just discern
Where Rocky Creek emerges
from deep green banks of fern
And, standing tall between them
the drooping she-oaks cool
The hard, blue-tinted waters
before they reach the pool
Ten miles down Reedy River
one Sunday afternoon
I rode with Mary Campbell
to that broad, bright lagoon
We left our horses grazing
'til shadows climbed the peak
And strolled beneath the she-oaks
on the banks of Rocky Creek
Then home along the river
that night we rode a race
And the moonlight lent a glory
to Mary Campbell's face
I pleaded for my future
all through that moonlight ride
Until our weary horses
drew closer side by side
Ten miles from Ryan's Crossing
and five below the peak
I built a little homestead
on the banks of Rocky Creek
I cleared the land and fenced it
and plowed the rich red loam
My first crop was golden
when I brought Mary home
Now still down Reedy River
the grassy she-oaks sigh
The water holes still mirror
the pictures in the sky
The golden sand is drifting
across the rocky bars
And over all forever
go sun and moon and stars
But of the hut I built
there are no traces now
And many rains have leveled
the furrows of my plow
The glad bright days have vanished
for somber branches wave
Their wattle-blossom golden
above my Mary's grave