The last old bushman

Now I live in stylish comfort
My house perched upon a hill
But late at night I feel the urge
To walk the bush trails still

I’m warm and safe in winter
I can escape the summer heat
But how I miss the outback trails
And the sound of tramping feet

There’s money in the bank now
And I own a fancy car
But I miss my bushland mates and
I wonder where they are

The friends that now come calling
Are all the best that you can buy
But I just see lust for riches
And not friendship in their eyes

In the days when I had nothing
But the clothes upon my back
I had friends that I could count on
As I walked the Holland track

Though we all went seeking fortunes
We knew the price there was to pay
We’d always stop to help a stranger
Not like folks you see today

How I long to hear the jingle
of the horses bells at night
how I long to feel the tingle
of the sun’s first rays of light

I want to feel again the blanket
Of the stars above my head
I want to travel through the range land
With just the earth to make my bed

But I’m too old to walk the range land
And all my mates are dead and gone
But just as long as I remember
Then all my mates will still live on

And the bush land and the goldfields
That I knew from days gone by
Can live on a little longer
Till the last old bushman dies

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