Here is the sunny land of Oz
We rarely receive Christmas snows
How we'd love to be singing
Bing Crosby's lines in melodic rows

As we gather around the barbeque
To roast our sausages and steaks
We'll be keeping an eye out
For flies, mosquitoes and slithering snakes

We'll be dreaming of much cooler climes
Like the ones in the Northern Hemisphere
As we're consuming our gross packs
Of warm Castlemaine ginger beer

Crooning Bing's Christmas rhyme
Will give us all a sense
Of what is it like to have snow falling
Over a hot Aussie backyard fence