You can take the boy out of the bush, but you can't take the bush out of the boy

BUSH LAD.

You could see he was a lad from the bush, that was quiteplain
He had a kind of a gawky look, talking for him was a pain,
Trousers too big, tied up with twine round his waist for a belt,
Shirt patched and torn, out of his pants, you couldn tell how he felt

A lad from the bush out of his depth, wandering a big city street’
Looking at strangers with a kind of lost stare, maybe hoping someone to meet,
Who could show him the way, to get out of the town and put him back in his place,
Where he would feel more at his ease, feeling the breeze,, way out in the wide open space.

Where he can feel free, at one with the land, no crowds to cofuse and upset,
Where trees give their shade, on a hot summers day and an old dog beside him to pet,
A creek running wild, where he as child spent happy hours all by himself,
No need for toys like spoilt city boys, no need for money or wealth.

Just a lad from the bush you might say, but remember one day he will grow to be a man of the land,
Who will work with the soil, and will labor and toil to develop as best as he can,
His acres of farm, without doing harm, to the natural bushland around,
Conserving the trees, the birds and the bees, mking sure his crops they abound.

Out of place in the city, but there’s no need to pity this lad in the hustle of town,
He’ll go back to the bush away from the rush and madding pace of the crowd ,
Finding his feet, old friends he will greet who like him don’t fit with the city mob,
That cannot know the peace and relief of just getting on with the job.

Jw Feb 02