| Pastel red to burgundy and spinifex to gold |
| We’ve just come out of the mulga where the plains forever roll |
| And Albert Namatjira has painted all the scenes |
| And a shower has changed the lustre of his land |
| And it’s raining on the rock, in a beautiful country |
| And I’m proud to travel this big land, like an Aborigine |
| And it’s raining on the rock, what an almighty sight to see |
| And I’m wishing on a postcard, that you were here with me |
| Everlasting daisies and the beautiful desert rose |
| Where does their beauty come from, heaven knows |
| I could ask the wedgetail, but he’s way too high |
| I wonder if he understands, it’s wonderful to fly |
| And it’s raining on the rock, in a beautiful country |
| And I’m proud to travel this big land, like an Aborigine |
| And it’s raining on the rock, what an almighty sight to see |
| And I’m wishing on a postcard, that you were here with me |
| It cannot be described with a picture |
| The mesmerising colours of the Olgas |
| Or the grandeur of the rock |
| Uluru has power |
| And it’s raining on the rock, in a beautiful country |
| And I’m proud to travel this big land, like an Aborigine |
| And it’s raining on the rock, what an almighty sight to see |
| And I’m wishing on a postcard, that you were here with me |