THE AUSTRALIAN FARMER
He stands out from the crowd, he’s a loner,
you can be sure he’s not part of a group.
He doesn’t need people and small talk,
to hold his image in place.
He knows who he is, and he knows his place,
and the time mother nature allocated to his race.
There is work to be done, and traditions to be kept,
this Australian doesn’t care, if he is out of step,
With the others who group, and mingle and dwell,
and waste their lives, they can go to hell.
I can pick them, this breed of Nature’s gentlemen,
with their pale blue eyes and fair haired skin.
Small framed and lean and strong as hell,
when it comes to working and toiling the land.
Their words are few and far between,
unless you mention horses, or droving, cattle sheep or the land.
Then the character settles easy in the chair,
and the words flow gently through the air.
He’s proud and humble, he’s rich and he’s poor
he’s stubborn, then changes for no reason at all, it may seem.
But then that’s him, and nature and life’s like that,
this individual knows exactly where he’s at,
he knows who he is, and what he has to do,
he carries the faith, traditions,
and heirs of other Australians of earlier years.