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.