Galleries of pink galahsCrystal nights with diamond starsApricots preserved in jarsThat's my homeLand of oceans in the sunPurple hazes, river gumBreaks your heart when rain won't comeIt breaks your heartIt takes a harsh and cruel droughtTo sort the weaker saplings outIt makes room for stronger treesMaybe that's what life's aboutWinter's come, the hills are brownShops are closed, the blinds are downEverybody's leavin' townThey can't go onThe south wind through veranda gauzeWhines and bangs the homestead doorsA mother curses dusty floorsAnd feels aloneTrucks and bulk bins filled with rustBoy leaves home to make a crustA father's dreams reduced to dustBut he must go onTortured red gums unashamedSunburnt country wisely namedChisel-ploughed and wire-claimedBut never never never tamedWhirlwind swirls a paper highSame old news of further dryOf broken clouds just passing byThat's my homeLand of oceans in the sunPurple hazes, river gumBreaks your heart when rain won't comeIt breaks your heart
John Williamson
| A Bushman Cant Survive | |
| Bells In A Bushmans Ears | |
| Dingo | |
| Galleries Of Pink Galahs | |
| Skinny Dingoes |
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