Daylight Fading. With daylight slowly fading, with evening chasing day, The sunlit hills surrender, golden tussock fades to grey. A billy brew is calling, to men who sit and yarn, About a long days mustering ,on the hills above the farm. The tea is hot, the fire gives light, a weary body moves, To settle on a ground that`s hard, but better than the town. A long day done, but more to come, more sheep among the hills, A stretch , a yawn and settle down, snug from evening`s chills. A yarn to tell, a dram to taste, a blanket wrapped around, Such men who live away from folk, still living off the land. They move the mobs, they herd the sheep, a caring they do show, For all the stock they move along, knowing where to go. A pretty face is on the mind, a lass across the hill, A dance next week, at the local hall, a dram to ward the chill. If all goes well he`ll meet her there, a dance, maybe he`ll ask, If not, next day he`ll saddle up, and focus on his task. The age of life that slows us all, will one day creep upon, Men of the land who feel the need, to never settle down. The memory strong will burn within, but life stays not forever, For time will come and they move on, another drove together.
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