A Squatters Prayer by Slim Dusty
I must look a bloody wag,
Sitting here upon my swag,
Beneath the tattered remnants of a fly.
With water all around me,
Fair dinkum it'd astounds me,
The quantity that's comin' from the sky.
I'm sitting on an island,
The only bit of high land,
Upon the sea of saturated bog,
And the company that I'm keepin',
Ain't exactly made for sleepin',
It's several thousand croaking bloated frogs.
I thought I'd seen some skeeters
And other types of bleeders
In my travels through this God forsaken land,
But the way the're flapping in the trees,
Has got me tremblin' at the knees,
That bee of good axe handle across the spand
I've had all I can take,
From centipedes and snakes
And scorpians and things that crawl around,
They're sittin' on the bolders,
And perchin' on my shoulders,
All lookin' for a bit of higher ground.
Hey!
[Instrumental]
With the water risin' steady,
Oh, I'll tell ya mate, I'm ready,
To vacate this place without no more delay,
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