Piccaninny Dawn

In the piccaninny dawn
when the sun has yet to rise
and the purple shades of night
are still clinging to the sky

When the chorus of the birds
comes ringing from the trees
and the waters on the lake
are first rippled by the breeze

When the hills still wear the cloak
of the colours of the night
and their tops are touched with gold
in the clear crisp morning light

In the piccaninny dawn
when there’s magic in the air
When a brand new day is born
there’s a world both rich and rare

Then a mighty orange glow
shows the sun is on its way
and the piccaninny dawn
quickly starts to fade away

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