The Swagman
The Swag-man
On the north side of the river
The water tumbles silver slivers
The rocks just peeking out to form a rapid fall
The waters speeding over the top of the new born water fall
The south side of the river
The calm waters waiting there
The flows of silver slivers reflections are beyond compare.
The golden autumn leaves reflecting in the river
Australia summer is going to sleep but not yet time to shiver
The swagman packs his swag to find a winter bed
The tune of Waltzing Matilda perhaps dancing in his head
He heading out beyond the black stump
He’s not sure of where he’ll park his rump
He’ll travel where work can be found
And park himself till spring comes round.
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