Cydi - John Williamson

She walks like her old man, over active and thin

She laughs at all the same things, that makes her father grin

She’s only 15, no brothers in her clan

And her father calls her Cydi, his right hand man

She can drive a tractor, or curse a useless dog

Shear a sheep, strain a fence or cut a nine foot log

She was meant to be a boy, it didn’t go to plan

But her father loves his Cydi, his right hand man

But the boys in the town today are turning their heads

Is that really Cydi, that tomboy kid of Ed’s?

She used to kick the footy, win every race we ran

Ed knew the world was changing, for his right hand man

You won’t find her in the kitchen, she won’t make her bed

She’d rather make a sheep grate with a welder in the shed

Or just be out there in the bush doing what she can

Just being with her father, his right hand man

And her mother takes her shopping, it’s time she bought a dress

Looking in the mirror, «Not bad» she must confess

But I’d rather have that pair of jeans and boots if I can

She’s still her father’s Cydi, his right hand man

And the boys in the town today are turning their heads

Is that really Cydi, that tomboy kid of Ed’s?

She used to kick the footy, win every race we ran

Ed knew the world was changing, for his right hand man

Yet her father loved his Cydi, his right hand man