The lust of the wander in him is still strong
In any one town he feels he doesn't belong
He has shorn in the big shearing sheds in the wide brown country
And many more places for him for to see,
A book on his travels some author may write
He has worked in many an urban building site
Does not stay anywhere long for to become well known
The born to travel man has a mind of his own
In his latter twenties still in his life's prime
He works hard and drinks hard in his work free time
The women he has made love to in numbers do grow
But of any children he has fathered he does not seem to know
Surrounded by flat paddocks bare looking and brown
In his ute on the roadway to the next big town.
No comments:
Post a Comment