In the heart of Forster Tuncurry, Where the cool sea whispers low, Judy, the Aboriginal mum, whispers, To her daughters, seeds she sows. Her hands, a canvas of ancient tales, Paint stories on gum leaf veins, While Colin, her rock, her harbor still, Listens to Queen in soft refrains. Mick, the friend with laughter bright, With history shared under Sydney's light, Together they weave a tapestry of life, Binding past to present, joy and strife. From Nabiac's whispering groves To the urban hum of Sydney's sprawl, They craft a dance of love and lore, In every brushstroke, in every call. Songs of queens and lands untamed, In Judy's eyes, her dreams aflame.