By A Fire Of Gidgee Coal

By a warm electric heater,
In a softly padded chair,
In a lounge room 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 ring my bedside bell,
The maid brings me 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.
INSTRUMENTAL
I’m driven out each evening
By a chaffeur 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 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.
Yes I’d rather share a bottle
With those drovin' mates of old.
In a pair of dusty moleskins,
By a fire of Gidgee coal.