I live out in the country where I grow my wheat and sheep
I used to make a living here and pay my food and keep
The place that bought my produce was a country called Iraq
We’d ship them all our meat and grain, they’d send the money back
We’d spend it in the country towns and keep those towns alive
And every little business there was busy and would thrive
We no more have that market, to bring in all that wealth
We no more have a hospital, or doctor for our health
We no more have a railway, or a station for the train
To take us to the city or to cart away our grain
They took away our post office and took away the bank
To have such institutions here our town just didn’t rank
And now they kill the golden goose that laid the golden egg
Our allies bomb our customers, while we just scrape and beg
We try to get assistance but our efforts are in vain
Our plight is further compounded, by drought and lack of rain
Our government import refugees who tax this scarce resource
”But this adds to our culture”, and is good for us of course?
Australia: once a prosperous land of tanned and hardy folk
Is now termed “multicultural” and held within a yoke
Our youth hang out the alleys, with booze and sex and drugs
An much of our police force are reduced to pawns and thugs
We live within a “resource boom” with sharing out of reach
While sewage and pollution foul our water and our beach
Our leaders take our water, and sell our telephone
And leave our once rich country, stripped nearly to the bone
They take away our tariffs, and flood the land with junk
And when a politician talks, its all a lot of bunk
The poor Australian farmers now are falling by the score
Through silly little “Johnny’s” games with Globalists and War.
Brian McRae
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