When a shearer downs his clippers maybe he'll picked up
a pen,
For the scene might be a drover when the campfire glows
again,
There are phrases to be fashioned, rhymes to fit like
'hand in glove’,
Bush poets of Australia write the stories that we love.
There’s a warmth throughout their verses like the
friendliness you find,
If you ever left the city and it's comforts far behind,
Help the spirit of the outback, not afraid of any test,
They could be it's share of story of the glory of the
west.
Holmes paint a wide brown picture when a drought sweeps
o'er the land,
And it's swollen muddy rivers when the big wet takes
command,
Simple tales of homely pleasures find their way onto a
page,
May the special brand of humour and their charm will
never age.
It could be an old-time barn dance or a monthly trip to
town,
That will fire imagination and a rough pen writes it
down,
Or a pencil full of teeth marks might recall a grand
event,
Like a rodeo or race day to which everybody went.
Oh the buggy is a mem’ry and old Dobbins had his day,
They still roll out in verses bringing romance on the
way,
To our Pattersons and Lawsons let us wish them one and
all,
May their numbers be like gum trees ever are proud and
growing tall,
So when a shearer downs his slippers maybe he'll picked
up a pen,
For the scene might be a drover when the campfire glows
again,
There are phrases to be fashioned rhymes to fit like
'hand in glove’,
Bush poets of Australia write the stories that we love.
