There's a little spark and a wisp of smoke By the road where the tall gums are; And a mile away a care-free bloke Speeds onward in his car. No thought of evil mars his day, And he's well a hundred miles away And safe at home, as skies grow grey, With another fine cigar. There's a spurt of flame in the breathless night And a crackling in the scrub; There's a withered mint-bush burning bright, And a kindling dog-wood shrub. For yards about the bush glows red But the care-free bloke, his paper read, Says, 'Bonzer day. And now for bed After a bite of grub.' There's a sickening roar as the fire sweeps down From the mountainside aflame On the helpless little forest town, And one knew how it came. Ten miles of blackened hills gape wide And a stricken home on the mountain side ... But the care-free bloke toils on in pride. He saw no spark by the bush roadside, So how is he to blame?