Tree
I grew by a hill looking over a bright blue lake
By a marsh and a river that flowed like a snake to the bay
To the sea, that was me
I got news of the world from migrating birds and eels
Through the bustling myriad of life that communed
In cahoots with my roots and my bark and my leaves
I lived from 1318 to 1813, through many an emperor, king and queen
An age of change, a world away
But my place had stayed pristine, as it'd always been
Birrarung Marr, the banks of the river of mists and shadows
As it's known to the Kulin clans, the people who shared and cared for those lands
As their ancestors had
They'd stand on the hill looking over the bright blue lake
By the marsh and the river that flowed like a snake all the way to the bay
Or to Naarm, as the Boonwurrung say
They'd cross at the falls and meet under my shade
And make a fire from bark and sticks that I’d made
Sharing stories, ancient tunes, as they've sung for half a million moons
In 1803 some white people came for a few days
The wood of their boat told of the long voyage it'd made
And how its Gadi home had changed so much in only 15 years
Soon after then, 3 white men, one very tall
Rushed across the river at the rocks and continued west
They seemed desperate, tired and hungry, no time to rest, as they
Passed by the hill looking over the bright blue lake
By the marsh and the river that flowed like a snake to the bay
To the sea, but they were free
Then the following years there came a drought
The younger trees started shading me out
I faltered and faded as the salt level rose
And one too many mistletoes, and so it goes that
In 1813, my sap stopped flowing, my wood stopped growing
But kept going as a home for a host of creatures
In my gnarled and hollowed features
And my bark was used to make canoes
Then 1835 saw more whites arrive
And contrive to do a deal with the Kulin people
But then just drive them off their sacred ground
And all faith was lost when gold was found
They leveled the hill, and filled in the bright blue lake
Drained the marsh, made the river flow less like a snake
Full of muck they would make all the way to the bay
They cut me down to build the town
And milled my trunk of nigh on 500 rings into things like posts for piers
And buried deep as piles for bridges and railway sleepers
Or even a beam in a house in St Kilda
The window frame signed by the builder
His penciled name inspired the guy who scribed this song
Much later on, but to the land it's truly not that long since
I grew by a hill looking over a bright blue lake
By a marsh and a river that flowed like a snake to the bay
To the sea, that was me
© Mal Webb 2026
In case it isn't obvious, this song from the point of view of a tree that lived on the Yarra River bank (Birrarung Marr) before whites turned up, from 1318 to 1813, which I just had to do, so it'd justify the 13-across-18 groove I've used for it: https://malwebb.com/Tree.mp3 (and here it is with the 18 and 13 spelt out alternately: https://malwebb.com/TreeWithBeat.mp3 ). The song is inspired by the trees in this engraving of John Fawkner's landing in 1835: http://malwebb.com/FawknerLanding.jpg (which I first saw in Dr Judith Buckrich's book, Yarra Birrarung), early descriptions of the Yarra banks, and this signature of the builder of my house in 1883, Ebenezer Fitch, on a window frame: https://malwebb.com/FitchFrame.jpg
I grew by a hill looking over a bright blue lake
By a marsh and a river that flowed like a snake to the bay
To the sea, that was me
I got news of the world from migrating birds and eels
Through the bustling myriad of life that communed
In cahoots with my roots and my bark and my leaves
I lived from 1318 to 1813, through many an emperor, king and queen
An age of change, a world away
But my place had stayed pristine, as it'd always been
Birrarung Marr, the banks of the river of mists and shadows
As it's known to the Kulin clans, the people who shared and cared for those lands
As their ancestors had
They'd stand on the hill looking over the bright blue lake
By the marsh and the river that flowed like a snake all the way to the bay
Or to Naarm, as the Boonwurrung say
They'd cross at the falls and meet under my shade
And make a fire from bark and sticks that I’d made
Sharing stories, ancient tunes, as they've sung for half a million moons
In 1803 some white people came for a few days
The wood of their boat told of the long voyage it'd made
And how its Gadi home had changed so much in only 15 years
Soon after then, 3 white men, one very tall
Rushed across the river at the rocks and continued west
They seemed desperate, tired and hungry, no time to rest, as they
Passed by the hill looking over the bright blue lake
By the marsh and the river that flowed like a snake to the bay
To the sea, but they were free
Then the following years there came a drought
The younger trees started shading me out
I faltered and faded as the salt level rose
And one too many mistletoes, and so it goes that
In 1813, my sap stopped flowing, my wood stopped growing
But kept going as a home for a host of creatures
In my gnarled and hollowed features
And my bark was used to make canoes
Then 1835 saw more whites arrive
And contrive to do a deal with the Kulin people
But then just drive them off their sacred ground
And all faith was lost when gold was found
They leveled the hill, and filled in the bright blue lake
Drained the marsh, made the river flow less like a snake
Full of muck they would make all the way to the bay
They cut me down to build the town
And milled my trunk of nigh on 500 rings into things like posts for piers
And buried deep as piles for bridges and railway sleepers
Or even a beam in a house in St Kilda
The window frame signed by the builder
His penciled name inspired the guy who scribed this song
Much later on, but to the land it's truly not that long since
I grew by a hill looking over a bright blue lake
By a marsh and a river that flowed like a snake to the bay
To the sea, that was me
© Mal Webb 2026
In case it isn't obvious, this song from the point of view of a tree that lived on the Yarra River bank (Birrarung Marr) before whites turned up, from 1318 to 1813, which I just had to do, so it'd justify the 13-across-18 groove I've used for it: https://malwebb.com/Tree.mp3 (and here it is with the 18 and 13 spelt out alternately: https://malwebb.com/TreeWithBeat.mp3 ). The song is inspired by the trees in this engraving of John Fawkner's landing in 1835: http://malwebb.com/FawknerLanding.jpg (which I first saw in Dr Judith Buckrich's book, Yarra Birrarung), early descriptions of the Yarra banks, and this signature of the builder of my house in 1883, Ebenezer Fitch, on a window frame: https://malwebb.com/FitchFrame.jpg
