Miss Bulba

White capped the billows a'kissing the breeze,

Strong are the shadows where the waters are deep,

And "Miss Bulba” with her engine so merrily chugging

Awakens old Neptune from his beauty sleep.

Bracing the breeze on the lake's surface choppy,

Proudly "Miss Bulba" doth furrow along,

Green are the meadows whose crowns are a'wooded

And soothing the murmur of magpies' sweet song.

Bold hills outlined, guarding the lake,

Deep are the valley's and winding the bays,

Peaceful the cattle contentedly grazing

While seagulls are diving in constant array.

As she bucks to a wave, and the spume is unfurled

To scatter like diamonds, newborn and farflung,

I purr with the engine, all’s well with the world

To my lips comes a melody, and is heartily sung.

The 'roos on the margin of Bulba's fair Isle

Prick up their long ears, and are off at a hop,

The bush and seclusion had better by far

Enfold them in safety, from things they know not.

At the wharf by the cottage, browses ' Judy ' and' Bess'

And the 'Redbills' are flicking their tails near the swamp

The 'Topnots' are cooing, while 'pinky' just screams

And sleek bodied 'Topsy' is off with a stamp.

Miss Bulba, her journey now ended is moored

To dip and to fret as the rollers unfold,

But her anchor holds well to the lake's sandy bed

And the tale of her journey to Wangi is told.

Thompson Noble. July, 1933.

Lake Macquarie History