"What dream is this? Lawny spaces set.
What miracle of dome and minaret?" *
From dusty homes,
pass through dreamlands
of vaulted brilliance.

Where glass fragments colour the air,
Our grandstand, our civilised world,
our treasure store.
Our fragile hoard.

Then fire!

Bursting through the ferns and skylight,
crashing flares rise with the morn light.
Colours mixed with hues of metal,
piles of ore and smould'ring petals.

Stand firm, Queen of the South,
your fountain holds you at the heart.

Artistry, industry, commodities,
oil and wine, emu eggs, pearls of the sea.
Pyramids of gold, dugongs of the deep;
splendour from the north, the south, west, and east!

Then fire