Black Opal

Writer unknown

There’s a sleepy little township out beyond the western plains,
Lightning Ridge the town of opal, where there’s heat and scanty rains.
The location is not scenic, just rough ridges all round,
Nature strewed scenes of beauty in Black Opal underground.

If you have never seen Black Opal then you have missed a splendid sight,
Like quicksilver gaily colored, slipping through the shades of night.
Though you have roamed the whole world, and seen all there is to see,
There’s scenes you’ve never dreamed of, in this stone of mystery.

Quite unique in all its beauty, as a gem it stands alone,
Mortal man will never fashion imitations of these stones.
As you look into opal, turn it gently and behold,
Vivid shades of blue and crimson, softly turn to green and gold.

Lit by pools of gleaming fire that appears and fade away,
Moving like a motion picture of some long forgotten day.
Here you’ll see a perfect rainbow mirrored in a blue lagoon,
Crimson sunsets, verdant pastures, blending with the rising moon.

Liquid fire in a valley on a dark and stormy night,
Twinkling stars of changing colors, dancing in a golden light.
Storm clouds over tropic splendors, vivid lightning flashes gleam,
There’s scenes that seem to haunt your memory like some half forgotten dream.

Ever restless, ever changing, scene on scene is gently born,
Opening like a glorious flower wet with dew at the flush of dawn.
Flecked with dust of wattle blossoms, branding it Australia’s own,
Beautiful and mystifying Queen of gems, the opal stone.