Where in the woods where Chatswood stands
Did settlers leave some trees ?
They’d come, all keen and industrious
To drive about the lands they’d seen.
Upon the ridge they laid the tracks
To Sydney and to wealth
But bit by bit, tree by tree
They took our wealth by stealth.
Upon the scene did come a lass
A lover of birds and land
Her husband Hayes, a dour old chap
Thought her kind of grand.
Day after day, week after week
Chat draws and peers and dreams
Of stands long gone, amid the trees
On King’s Plains and her loved ravines.
When such time comes as to sell the land
Where upon Chatswood is seen
A name is sought to tell the world
All about Chattie’s magical dream.
“Chat’s Wood it’ll be, that’ll get them in”
Proclaims Hayes, wringing hands with glee
“They’ll flock here in droves and who knows
You might sell a painting or three”.
“What do you mean”, the lass quietly asks
As she sets off to wander her woods
“I’ve named it for you and those trees where you go
Everyday down in Chattie’s Woods”.