Lets falsify the census to topple the popular

And drift enmasse to Burrup Peninsula

With pride to protect the petroglyphs
                whatta we got to stay home for?

                eating snags on toast ‘cos we got no chops

                fish and chips on Fridays
The distance the same travelled for dialysis

Will the Flying Doctor take us there?
                c’mon grab ya blankets

                got no mortgage as a handcuff

                ain’t got no key to a wardrobe
Our Land remains purer than diabetes blood

We must protect the sacred rock writing

With every drop of blood we can spill
Stand in the shadow of a valley not yet dead

As buses dispel an endless stream

The ambience ruined by tourism
Ah! Disguise the proverbs of carved rock truth

That means more, so much more than a photo shoot