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By a Fire Of Gidgee Coal

The Wayfarers

By a warm electric heater and a softly padded chair

In a loungeroom brightly lighted by a glowing chandelier

Since my early days of drovin' the years have taken toll

But I somehow miss my swag wrap by a fire of Gidgee coal



When I wake from sleep each morning and I ring the bedside bell

The maid brings in my breakfast and she fills my pipe as well

There are cakes and sweetened coffee on a tray of sparkling gold

But I miss black tea and damper by a fire of Gidgee coal



I am driven' out each evening by a chauffer spruce and neat

Through the flowered parks and gardens and the crowded city streets

But I drift back through the ages while the big car softly rolls

To a stock route and a wagonette and a fire of Gidgee coal



I attend all social parties in the rich parts of the town

Drinking wine from fancy glasses as the waiters go their rounds

But I'd rather share a bottle with those drovin' mates of old

In a pair of dusty moleskins by a fire of Gidgee coal

In a pair of dusty moleskins by a fire of Gidgee coal






Mais tocadas

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