Camperdown
The dignity of Camperdown
Is not to be denied,
Where Leura looks upon the town
And that lush countryside
And comfortable, stout and sleek,
She wears the air of one who'd seek
To mind her manners rather much,
And cultivate the English touch.

A haughty lady prone to row
Her eyebrows, when the road
Brings in some traveller whose ways
Tend to offend her code.
The robust life of modern towns
Suits ill her verdant dells and downs.
She is particular, aloof;
As witness many a manor roof.

'Tis said that Leura, long ago,
Belched flames up to the sky,
And turbulently sought to throw
Stones at the passers-by.
And her rich ashes raining down,
Bequeathed great wealth to Camperdown;
But turbulence in youth begun,
Is now taboo. It 'isn't done'.
And Camperdown, of gracious mien,
Brings joy to him who views
The glamor of her peaceful scene
And placid avenues;
A proper town, that sets the pace,
And sets the scene for civic grace.
And will might many another town
Adopt the air of Camperdown.