| Old bloodwood tree at last you’re free
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| From the change that’s comin' down
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| You were felled to the ground
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| By a mean chainsaw
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| Where you kept watch for a hundred years or more
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| In your silent stance while the river danced
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| Where the big floods used to rise
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| In your broken limbs the wounds are scarred
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| Cyclones tore this coast apart
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| But old tree there you’re lying defeated by the change
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| And years pass more quickly as we reach a greater age
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| As your sap is slowly bleeding your life is winding down
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| And with strangers gone where we were born
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| As the bush becomes the town
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| Where farms that grew this country’s food
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| And a drover walked his mob
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| Where lanterns glowed in old bush homes
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| And a welcome handshake always showed
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| Your rings of age will slowly fade
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| As the fire burns your grave
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| Your coals will blow in the hot north breeze
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| And the embers dance, their last reprieve
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| Yes old tree there you’re lying defeated by the change
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| Years pass more quick, as we reach a greater age
|
| As your sap is slowly bleeding your life is winding down
|
| And with strangers gone where we were born
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| As the bush becomes the town |