| Sometimes the comfort of a room
|
| Sometimes I’m quite alone
|
| I pack to leave a foreign town
|
| It seems I’ll never know
|
| But I’ll rent new accommodation
|
| We’ll make plans from mobile homes
|
| The slow boat’s moving with the tide
|
| Drifting far from shore
|
| It’s the nature of this country life
|
| I’ve never known before
|
| Still we’ll make plans for buildings and houses
|
| From mobile homes
|
| Plant life, my life
|
| Still life in mobile homes
|
| Plant life, my life
|
| Still life in mobile homes
|
| The sound of wildlife fills the air
|
| So warm and dry
|
| The bushland burns in this southern heart
|
| Like an open fire
|
| Still we’ll make plans for buildings and houses
|
| From mobile homes
|
| In mobile homes
|
| Plant life, my life
|
| Still life in mobile homes
|
| Plant life, my life
|
| Still life in mobile homes
|
| Plant life, my life
|
| Still life in mobile homes
|
| Plant life, my life
|
| Still life in mobile homes
|
| A voice screams from heaven
|
| As we start to sail
|
| It’s the calling of the fatherland
|
| I used to know so well
|
| But I’ll find new accommodation
|
| We’ll make plans from mobile homes
|
| Plant life, my life
|
| Still life in mobile homes
|
| Plant life, my life
|
| Still life in mobile homes
|
| Plant life, my life
|
| Still life in mobile homes
|
| Plant life, my life
|
| Still life in mobile homes
|
| Plant life, my life
|
| Still life in mobile homes
|
| Plant life, my life
|
| Still life in mobile homes |