The Farm Run
North Harbour Reserve,
A Swamp long ago
Up Beach St, a pasture
That cows used to mow
Brimbecom Park
A Milking shed there
Then stairs up to West St
A mansion’s still here
Before 1930s
Was virgin bush this
A haven for families
And life indigenous
As your thighs become burning
No more can you talk
Feel the ghosts of our hood
On whose history we walk
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