Spirit Of The Land

The rivers are dry across the land and the farmers fields have turned to sand 'Cause the rain hasn't come for two years going on three The topsoil's gone with the hot north wind, the crops won't grow and rust set in And the cruel south wind of winter brought no relief And the old men in the public bar talk of floods and droughts before And as the night goes on the conversations die But the battlers don't give up, it's written on their hands And in their eye-eye-eye-eye-eyes, and the spirit of the land survives And on Saturday night in the Royal Hotel, Hank the Dutchman plays guitar He sings country and western favourites and requests It used to be his second job, a bit of a laugh for a couple of bob Now it's all he's got 'cause his crops all died from thirst Then he spent his savings on cattle and sheep, he got some credit, got in too deep But stock won't graze on pastures turned to salt And then he tried to get work as a travelling man selling Rawleighs products from the back of his van But the cockies all shop in town where things are cheap And the old men in the public bar talk of floods and droughts before And as the night goes on the conversations die But the battlers don't give up, it's written on their hands And in their eye-eye-eye-eye-eyes, and the spirit of the land survives The school's all rundown, the roofs rusted and the paint's peelin' The playground's just a dustbowl, not a spot of green The kids still kick their footballs sending dust clouds to the sun And it's good to know the drought can't spoil the fun And in the cricketers lounge late at night where the cockies talk and the shearers fight And their wives drink shandies 'cause they'll be dri