| The sun is shining bright and fair,
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| A glorious summers day,
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| And quietly in her old arm chair,
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| Granny dreams away.
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| She wanders back into the past,
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| Across fine misty haze,
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| When she was tender sweet sixteen,
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| In those pioneering days.
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| Gently rocking to and fro
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| Her days are free from care,
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| Dreaming of the long ago,
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| When she was young and fair.
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| Although her road of life’s been rough,
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| She’d live it o’er again,
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| Those tired old hands so feeble now,
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| Have done the work of men.
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| Her home was a tumbled down old shack
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| Where lonely gum trees grew
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| She’s faced the dangers way outback
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| And won the hardships too.
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| Her just reward is yet to come,
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| For her unceasing toil,
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| When treasures of that promised land,
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| Unfold to each and all.
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| Gently rocking to and fro
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| Her days are free from care
|
| Dreaming of the long ago,
|
| When she was young and fair.
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| The sun is setting in the west,
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| To close another day,
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| And quietly in her old arm chair,
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| Granny dreams away. |