The Farming Game - John Williamson

Winter time Dad came home

Dirty diesel and rust

Pearly whites like diamonds

Smiling through the dust

Yummy mutton and pumkin

For a hungry gutted crew

We knew Mum loved us all to death

And we all loved her too

Well I couldn’t wait to walk in my old, man's shoes

And what more could I ask

To head off with my biscuit tin

Black Tea in a thermos flask

To learn to plough a real straight line

And learn to be alone

In ever diminishing circles

Solve problems on my own

Now it’s considered normal

To pass your acres down

But if you’ve got more children

Well you try to buy more ground

So you borrow heaps of money

Just to give your kids a go

After all that’s said and done

You taught them all you know

Now there were days we nearly sold

With frost and then a drought

Easier ways to make a quid

Would sort the young ones out

They say it builds your character

Good women and good men

Who turn around when the crop has failed

And sow it all again

So hold on tight you cockies

I know the feeling well

If you couldn’t save the family farm

Then you’d rather go to Hell

No one will share your burden

No one will share the blame

And my heart goes out to the familes

of The Farming Game