| You’re the bread that’s on the table from the wheat out in the field
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| You’re the crane that loads the iron ore that we turn into steel
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| You’re a farmer or a drover, you’re a lonely shearer’s wife
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| But to all of us Australians, you’re the country way of life
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| You’re the wine that’s in the cellar from the vineyards in the south
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| You’re the cheese, the milk, the butter that feeds a nation’s mouth
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| You’re the mighty irrigation, the hope of powerless time
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| But to all of us Australians, you’re the country way of life
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| When days are tough and even best of time
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| The land you love won’t pay you much to keep your dreams alive
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| You call yourself Australian 'cause you know you’ve earned the right
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| To the people in the cities, that’s the country way of life
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| You’re the little towns we’ve heard of, seven houses and a pub
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| You’re the way you help each other way out there in the scrub
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| You’re the tyranny of distance, you’re the misery of miles
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| But to all of us Australians, you’re the country way of life
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| You’re the tyranny of distance, the clear blue open skies
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| But to all of us Australians, you’re the country way of life
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| But to all of us Australians, you’re the country way of life |