There were many fond moments, like spending time with my old Pop
Listening to the wise sayings, and the telling of stock, and crops
Smiling and remembering, riding old "Bobby" to the BP station shop
Watching Dad prepare to do his morning shave, using the old strop

Off to church every Sunday, to pray, and thank God for his dues
While most all the boys carried pockets, filled with catheads too
To sting and startle unwary believers, as they filled their shoes
Trying to look innocent, as they put on a face, I have'nt a clue

Milk was oh so creamy, so fresh, straight from the many dairy cows
Work was long and dusty, as you walked sweaty, behind the old plough
Can't remember Mom and Dad fighting guess they were too tired to row
The smell of greasy bacon and damper for breakfast, can taste it now

Making shanghai's from Wattle trees, into the heat so they hardened
Eating, and watering the vegetables growing, down in the back garden
Making canoes of old roofing iron, filling holes with black tarring
The clear and beautiful nights where the Southern Cross is starring

Some time later, I rise from my possy on the ancient granite rock
Time has tired out this once youthful spring, in my old body clock
Maybe it's getting time to look for a berth, at the scrappers dock
This old weathered face has more tics, than many old wornout tocks

Now, as I grow much older, and the years are becoming harder to see
I know, I am close to this country, as the sand is to the briny sea
When I die, cast my ashes upon the wind, for then I'll still be free
To roam this land of beauty, where my spirit wanders with the breeze

Life was good and people were happy and content with what they had, if only relatively meagre in this modern world.

I wouldn't exchange my childhood for all the money in China!