Princes Bridge over the Yarra River in Melbourne (Australia)

When I die put me in a barra
Wheel me down to the banks of the Yarra
Dig a hole both deep and narra
Bury me by my brown Yarra
Now people change, they’ll let you down
They’ll hurt you too, that’s what I’ve found
And though that river flows like mud
In my heart and soul it flows like blood
Or drop me off of Princes Bridge
Strapped inside a broken fridge
Drop me down in the murky drink
And let me lie where I sink
...

Lyrics from My Brown Yarra

Frank Jones

Bolte Bridge across the Yarra River in Melbourne (Australia)

Once the water of the Yarra was locked in the mountains. This great expanse of water was so large that the Woiwurong had little hunting ground.  Mo-yarra, slow-and-fast-running, was the headman of the Woiwurong. He decided to free the country of the water. So he cut a channel through the hills. However only a little water followed him. At a later time the new headman of the tribe, Bar-wool, resolved again to free the land. He cut a channel up the valley with his stone axe. In Warr-an-dyte he met Yan-yan, another Woiwurong, who was busily engaged in cutting a channel for the Plenty River in order to drain Morang. They joined forces, and the waters of Moorool and Morang became Moo-rool-bark, the Place-where-the-wide-waters-were. They  had to go much slower now because the ground was much harder. They were also using up too many stone axes. At last they reached Port Phillip and the waters of Moorool and Morang rushed out. The country of the Woiwurrong was freed from water but Port Phillip was inundated.

Indigenous legend of the Yarra valley

King Street Bridge over the Yarra River in Melbourne (Australia)

O sweet Queen-city of the golden South,
Piercing the evening with thy star-lit spires,
Thou wert a witness when I kissed the mouth
Of her whose eyes outblazed the skyey fires.
I saw the parallels of thy long streets,
With lamps like angels shining all a-row,
While overhead the empyrean seats
Of gods were steeped in paradisic glow.
The Pleiades with rarer fires were tipt,
Hesper sat throned upon his jewelled chair,
The belted giant's triple stars were dipt
In all the splendour of Olympian air,
On high to bless, the Southern Cross did shine,
Like that which blazed o'er conquering Constantine.

Melbourne
Patrick Maloney