We've all been there, in daydreams, when our
daily life becomes hum-drum, fruitless living,
We know the smell of dust, freshly wetted with
droplets from the heavens,
Familiar are we with the sounds of rippling creeks,
crackling fires with their smell of gum leaves burning,
While we rest upon a grassy knoll, and wait
to taste the brew.
Living on the memories of childhood schooldays
a very special feeling of nostalgia, is there, deep
within us all,
When recalling all the teachings, of our restless
swaggies old, how we know his feelings dearly, it's
embedded in our hearts
It's a legend truly speaking, of a yesteryear of old,
When men took to roaming freely, for reasons
of their own,
They may be called 'no-hopers', 'loafers' and the like,
But we've all had dreams of roaming, going
anywhere we please.
To feel the wonder of the dawning, in the dewy
morning mist and to move along at snail's pace, if
it suits our mood,
In our days of rushing blindly, in our haste to get
things done,
It's to marvel, wonderously, how it could survive,
This yearning for the open plains and tattered
clothing, designed, simply to give cover,
Yes we all have felt that yearning, no matter young
or old, for there's a little of the swaggie in us all.
Legend is a miracle God gave to one and all, some
call it a 'time waster', but for me, it's a retreat,
Swaggie days are long ago, forgotten by a few, until
mind weary, we retreat, to rest with him a while,
Before taking up our living once again, we must
refresh, once more, the mind,
Yes the swaggie is a legend, part of our great
heritage, we must keep him there forever, for
all the world to see.
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