The Bushman’s Homestead

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Deep in the amazing Australian bush,
At the end of a long winding dirt track,
Where gumtrees sway in the breeze,
And the only way in is on horseback.

There's a small old mud brick house,
With a rusting old corrugated tin roof,
It's plumbing is a basic sight to see,
And Horses only find dirt under hoof.

Wildlife come and go as they please,
The garden consists of wildflowers,
There's a rocking chair by the door,
To relax in for plenty of long hours.

The verandah's built for all to enjoy,
Whether they be man, bird or beast,
A tank to catch and store fresh water,
And a barbecue to cook up a feast.

Inside's an old cottage appearance,
To delight a beholders inquisitive eye,
For this is the comfortable bush home,
Of the Bushman when he comes on by.

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