Culler's Lament (Black Matai)

What are you singing, black matai, black matai?
The snow's on the tops and the fire's burning down.
What are you singing, east wind in the matai?
Your love's left the station, she's gone to the town.

What are you chattering, tall mountain birches?
The wind's in the west, and the rain's pelting down.
The flash floods are coming, I'm bound to keep moving,
But she's gone from the station, she's gone to the town.

Oh, the smell of these deerskins, the weight of my rifle,
This eighty-pound pack that keeps dragging me down:
I'll get out of the mountains, head back to the sheep-yards,
But she's gone from the station, she's gone to the town.

What are you whispering, wind in the snowgrass,
Combing the tussocks, and smoothing them down?
My love's hair was golden as snowgrass in summer,
But she's gone from the station, she's gone to the town.