Remember The Swaggies
For time means tucker and tramp you must,
Where the scrubs and plains are wide.
With seldom a track that man can trust,
Or a mountain peak guide.
All day long in the dust and heat,
When summer is on the track,
With stinted stomachs and blistered feet,
They carried their swags out back.
Who is this person that wanders this track?
Roaming all day with swag on his back.
Stopping to rest and occasionally sleep,
This wandering soul with blisters on his feet.
He's seen more of this land than me or you,
He's seen many a sight that we wish to view.
So why does he wander all day and all night,
With no one to hold him while he sleeps tonight?
He is the old Aussie swaggy,
Yes he's true blue.
He is the great Aussie swaggy,
Just taking in the view.
He loves this land,
With his whole open heart.
He's a wandering man,
With no place to start.
He's traveled this land,
From Sydney to Brissy,
He camps by a billabong,
For Easter and Chrissy.
But now they're all gone,
There's no swaggies left.
As the tracks all disappeared,
Mother nature has wept.
For her companion was the swaggy,
Who could do no wrong.
As he silently listened,
And chorused her song.
He was the old Aussie swaggy,
Yes he's true blue.
He was the great Aussie swaggy,
Painting the view.
He's traveled this land,
From Sydney to Brissy.
He camps by a billabong,
For Easter and Chrissy.
He loves this land,
With his whole open heart.
He's a wandering man,
With no place to start.
So remember the swagman,
When you next take to the track.
Stopping only to sleep,
Carrying his swag on his back.
Because he is the old Aussie swaggy,
Yes he's true blue.
He was the old Aussie swaggy,
Who cherished the view.
For time means tucker and tramp you must,
Where the scrubs and plains are wide.
With seldom a track that man can trust,
Or a mountain peak guide.
All day long in the dust and heat,
When summer is on the track,
With stinted stomachs and blistered feet,
They carried their swags out back.
By: Heath G. Schofield
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