When the shearing sheds are silent
and the stock camp’s fallen quiet,
When the gidgee coals no longer glow
across the outback night,
And the bush is forced to hang a sign,
“Gone broke and won’t be back!”
And spirits fear to find a way beyond
the beaten track.
—
When harvesters stand derelict, upon
the wind swept plains,
And brave hearts pin their hopes no
more on chance of loving rains.
When a hundred outback settlements
are ghost towns overnight,
When we’ve lost the drive and heart
we had to once more see us right.
When “Pioneer” means a stereo, and
“Digger” some backhoe,
And the “Outback” is behind the
house – there’s nowhere else to go.
And “ANZAC” is a biscuit brand,
and probably foreign owned,
And education really means
brainwashed and neatly cloned.
—
When you have to bake a loaf of
bread to make a decent crust,
And our heritage once enshrined in
gold is crumbling to dust.
And old folk pay their camping fees
on land for which they fought,
And fishing is a great escape; this is
until you’re caught.
—
When you see our kids with Yankee
caps, and resentment in their eyes,
And the soaring crime and hopeless
hearts is no longer a surprise.
When the name of RM Williams is a
yuppie clothing brand,
Not a product of our heritage that
grew off the land.
—
When offering a handshake makes people
think you’ll amputate,
And two dogs meeting in the street is
what you call a “Mate.”
When “Political Correctness” has
replaced all common sense,
When you’re forced to see it their way,
there’s no sitting on the fence.
—
Yes, one day you might find yourself
an outcast in this land,
Perhaps your heart will tell you then,
“I should have made a stand.”
Just go and ask the farmers,
that should remove all doubt.
Then join the swelling ranks who say,
“Don’t sell Australia out!”
~ Chris Long (Cairns)
Barnaby Is Right 
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