He's seldom in the Baysy Pub but when he's there he's wishing
That he were way out in the bush by some quite river fishing
Hoping he'd land a great big trout his life time to remember
Like the one that got away from him in Gippsland last September.
His heart is out there in the bush the bush to him keep calling
The hiss of startled kangaroo the sound of water falling
The booming voice of emu bird, the wild born bush pig grunting
The dingo howling on the plain out for the evening hunting.
His thoughts far from suburbia from traffic noise and rattle
Out in the World of whinnying horse and pleasant low of cattle
He'd much prefer the bleat of sheep to noise of train or lorry
His thoughts far from the concrete world from world of noise and worry.
And Jerry Donovan out of place not meant to live in city
He doesn't belong in concrete World and his type I do pity
His World is many miles from here where Nature's voice is ringing
And butcher bird on scented gum his happy song is singing.
He's seldom in the Baysy Pub but when a pot he's sinking
His thoughts are of that other world of other world he's thinking
And he has got that longing look and tears within him brimming
For quiet bush land waterway where platypus go swimming.
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