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