It was down At Campaspe Downs our Summer School did meet.

We gather to play our music, to the tempos of Celtic beat.

The tutors won’t go easy, on the tunes we’ll learn and play,

In the barn the singers singing their songs throughout the day.

In a cabin by the lakeside, the concertinas sqeeze

Scottish fiddle in the green room and conference room if you please.

Whistles trill in Cabin D and the Harps all play in G

Irish fiddle in the shearing shed they’ll all be Sean(shorn) by tea

Natalie’s cabin hosts the pipers, the guitarists are playing games,

Pianos are all syndicated, syncopated with sustain.

Activity room’s full of mandolins, flying picks at the speed of sound.

In the barn the singers singing, their songs of great renown.