Hugh McDonald - Spirit of the Land lyrics

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 topsoils gone with the hot north wind 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 and the conversations die, But the battlers won't give up, It's written on their hands and in their eyes, And the spirit of the land survives. On Saturday night in the Royal Hotel, Hank the Dutchman plays guitar, He sings country and Western favorites 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. So he spent his savings on cattle and sheep, Got some credit, got in too deep, But stock won't graze on pastures turned to salt. He tried to get work as a travelling man, Selling Rawleighs products from the back of his van, But the co*kies all shop in town where things are cheap. The state schools all rundown, Roofs rusting and paint peeling, School yards just a dustbowl, Not a spot of green, But the kids still kick their footballs Sending dustclouds to the sun And it's good to know that drought can't spoil the fun. And in the cricketers lounge late at night, Where the co*kies talk and the shearers fight, Where the co*kies talk and the shearers fight, Their wives drink shandies ‘cause they'll be driving home. The conversation centres around The prices of wheat. The lack of rain and the lack of sheep ‘Cause credits stretched and it won't stretch any more.