Home

They say home is where the heart is.

So, I’ll tell were mine belongs.

It’s out in the Australian bush,

It’s my grandfather’s place, he’s called Pa.

This place is the Aussie bush,

Where the mighty ironbark grows,

Fields of yellow grass rustles with the breeze,

And yes, there’s hardly any rain

The earth is filled with iron dying it red,

The ground burns with the suns heat,

Winds are scorching with them comes the dust

Willie-willies race across the view.

The night brings cool relief from the heat.

Only lights to be seen are from the stars,

The milky way snaking across the sky,

Each constellation tells a story to those who listen.