I had a farm in Africa at the foot of the Ngong Hills.
With rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfoot lad.
By brooks too broad for leaping
The lightfoot boys are laid;
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade.
With each viewing I am in awe of the work. Good bye Sydney, and thank you.