The land I love.
Posted: Sun Dec 08, 2013 10:35 am
The bloody guy next door is mowing and I expect soon he'll be blowing
off his driveway with his noisy flaming petrol driven beast.
I can hear a chain saw humming, down the street some kid is drumming
on a set his grandad brought him, it drives me mad to say the least.
The dog through the fence is barking and kids on their tramp skylarking
playing wrestling games and screaming out so loud it hurts my head.
I got up as the day was dawning but now my heart is mourning
for the noise here in the city fills my poor old heart with dread.
I close my eyes and dream I'm standing near a cattle yard were branding
of the scrubbers and the cleanskins is the only noise I hear.
midst the dust and grime and cattle where it's always been a battle
to even just survive a season is the one thing that we fear.
I can hear the whips a cracking as a big old piker backing
out of the crush sends ringers jumping for the safety of the gate.
While the smells and sounds of mustering drift on the breezes blustering
through the gidgee scrub and saltbush as they drive them to the crate.
But I'm stuck here in the city where my room is trim and pretty
and the plants here in the gardens, blooms put on a vivid show.
But I miss the outback flowers and the smell of rain as showers
drift across the barren landscape as the seasons come and go.
I miss the scent of wattle blooming as nature she is grooming
the country for a time of plenty from the storm clouds up above.
I expect that I will die here and although my bones will lie here
it's on the outback that my heart will gaze upon this land I love.
Bob Pacey ( C )
off his driveway with his noisy flaming petrol driven beast.
I can hear a chain saw humming, down the street some kid is drumming
on a set his grandad brought him, it drives me mad to say the least.
The dog through the fence is barking and kids on their tramp skylarking
playing wrestling games and screaming out so loud it hurts my head.
I got up as the day was dawning but now my heart is mourning
for the noise here in the city fills my poor old heart with dread.
I close my eyes and dream I'm standing near a cattle yard were branding
of the scrubbers and the cleanskins is the only noise I hear.
midst the dust and grime and cattle where it's always been a battle
to even just survive a season is the one thing that we fear.
I can hear the whips a cracking as a big old piker backing
out of the crush sends ringers jumping for the safety of the gate.
While the smells and sounds of mustering drift on the breezes blustering
through the gidgee scrub and saltbush as they drive them to the crate.
But I'm stuck here in the city where my room is trim and pretty
and the plants here in the gardens, blooms put on a vivid show.
But I miss the outback flowers and the smell of rain as showers
drift across the barren landscape as the seasons come and go.
I miss the scent of wattle blooming as nature she is grooming
the country for a time of plenty from the storm clouds up above.
I expect that I will die here and although my bones will lie here
it's on the outback that my heart will gaze upon this land I love.
Bob Pacey ( C )
