| Old turf fires, children’s smiles
|
| Friends to walk with, miles and miles
|
| No need now, feeling alone
|
| When we sing the songs of home
|
| In Australia far away
|
| Through the dust and heat
|
| Once I found an old bush man, tending to his sheep
|
| Asked if he would play awhile, banjo on his knee
|
| And much to my surprise, I knew his melody
|
| Old turf fires, children’s smiles
|
| Friends to walk with, miles and miles
|
| No need now, feeling alone
|
| When we sing the songs of home
|
| So many nights I’ve watched the sun
|
| Go down on 'Frisco Bay
|
| And sang those songs of nights back home
|
| In the meadows making hay
|
| I heard in Manitoba once, a mother hush a child
|
| And the lullaby she sang to him
|
| Took me back across the miles
|
| Old turf fires, children’s smiles
|
| Friends to walk with, miles and miles
|
| No need now, feeling alone
|
| When we sing the songs of home
|
| Songs of home are songs of hope
|
| And dreams of other days
|
| Songs of valleys green and low
|
| And safe, unchanging ways
|
| Songs of home are songs of love
|
| Sometimes tinged with blue
|
| And every song of home I hear |
| Is all wrapped up in you
|
| Old turf fires, children’s smiles
|
| Friends to walk with, miles and miles
|
| No need now, feeling alone
|
| When we sing the songs of home
|
| Old turf fires, children’s smiles
|
| Friends to walk with, miles and miles
|
| No need now, feeling alone
|
| When we sing the songs of home
|
| No need now, feeling alone
|
| When we sing the songs of home |