Home.

Lying in the brindle breeze among the rolling plains,

my back's upon my home; that golden fare.

A smell so sweet amongst the wind from Uluru to Cairnes,

a thousand years of eucalyptus air.

The mother of this wild and torn, burnt and brittle land,

unhinged by time, her skin's a fiery blaze.

And father too on ranges rough and steady plays the band,

rides mountain side in storms of dusty haze.

Oh how the Kookaburra songs echo in the trees,

to wake me from my slumber and my bed.

They sing of ancient ages gone and tell of Darling streams.

of dark skinned kings who ruled old Arnhem Land.

Of valleys deep and country wide the stories they were told,

for heroes like good Clancy and old Ned.

Who stood with hard earned eyes and looked so wildly through the storms,

and fought the dust rains and the pistol lead.

This land of outback barren runs toiled its life to me,

raised me through the days and crackling nights.

Among the wattle brush I run amuck of childhood dreams,

and found my way back home from southern lights.

Through ages gone and ages come and times of rough and bleak,

You’ve only to look up towards the skies.

For there you’ll find; old friends, old lovers, old forgotten dreams.

My sweet Australian stars, Australian eyes.

I walked among the Waratahs and played through urban streets,

I sipped the honey from those purple tears.

And mates for life I’ll always have to share a summer swim,

or drink while reminiscing of our cheers.

But days and nights and planes go by and friends they come and go,

though few will always stay a call away.

And when the years are more behind then ever were before,

I know I’ll have a place to always stay.

And so among the brindle breeze amidst those rolling plains,

my heart it waltzes with Matilda still.

And where Wildflowers and wild grass bends beneath my step,

my final breath I’ll take upon that hill.

Once more I’ll glance with teary eyes towards that sapphire sky,

and find old friends, old lovers and old dreams.

And bid farewell to my good home as Magpies freely fly,

and Kangaroos drink sweetly from the streams.

Home.

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