Theres an Aussie we all know where the western breezes blow
From north to south he's known far and wide
Henry Lawson was his name but he never rose to fame
Until he crossed beyond the great divide
In a little place called Grenfell when the gold was flowing free
And the miners and their money came went
In 1867 when the town was on the spree
Henry Lawson he was born there in a tent
He grew into a lanky lad when Gulgong was his home
His mind was bright he had those itchy feet
He wrote a string of verses of the days he used to roam
From dusty track outback to city streets
He drifted with the drovers across the western plains
And he waltzed Matilda down the Lachlan side
From the Barcoo to the Murray in droughts and flooding rains
Oh the bush was both his mother and his bride
He passed by plain and mountain and by burning desert sand
By shearing shed and lonely cattle camp
And when the beer was flowing he was there to lend a hand
With the mates that share his life upon the tramp
He sang of wild bush brumbies and the teamsters and their teams
Of outer tracks that only Bushmen know
He saw the mail coach coming by plains and mountain streams
And he wrote about the lights of Cobb & Co
He told of lonely men outback and women of the west
Of folk that fought to live in factory towns
But the swaggies of the old bush school were the ones he knew the best
Where the waters of the Darling wander down
He boiled his billy back of Bourke and starved in City Park
He penned his poems in a shaky scrawl
But of all the old bush poets who have passed and left their mark
Henry Lawson was the greatest of them all
Theres an Aussie we all know where the western breezes blow
From north to south hes known far and wide
Henry Lawson was his name but he never rose to fame
Until he crossed beyond the great divide
Until he crossed beyond the great divide.
--------------------------------------------
From his album: "Country Classics 1971-1979"
Songwriters/Composer: W.L. (Bill) Ryland;
From north to south he's known far and wide
Henry Lawson was his name but he never rose to fame
Until he crossed beyond the great divide
In a little place called Grenfell when the gold was flowing free
And the miners and their money came went
In 1867 when the town was on the spree
Henry Lawson he was born there in a tent
He grew into a lanky lad when Gulgong was his home
His mind was bright he had those itchy feet
He wrote a string of verses of the days he used to roam
From dusty track outback to city streets
He drifted with the drovers across the western plains
And he waltzed Matilda down the Lachlan side
From the Barcoo to the Murray in droughts and flooding rains
Oh the bush was both his mother and his bride
He passed by plain and mountain and by burning desert sand
By shearing shed and lonely cattle camp
And when the beer was flowing he was there to lend a hand
With the mates that share his life upon the tramp
He sang of wild bush brumbies and the teamsters and their teams
Of outer tracks that only Bushmen know
He saw the mail coach coming by plains and mountain streams
And he wrote about the lights of Cobb & Co
He told of lonely men outback and women of the west
Of folk that fought to live in factory towns
But the swaggies of the old bush school were the ones he knew the best
Where the waters of the Darling wander down
He boiled his billy back of Bourke and starved in City Park
He penned his poems in a shaky scrawl
But of all the old bush poets who have passed and left their mark
Henry Lawson was the greatest of them all
Theres an Aussie we all know where the western breezes blow
From north to south hes known far and wide
Henry Lawson was his name but he never rose to fame
Until he crossed beyond the great divide
Until he crossed beyond the great divide.
--------------------------------------------
From his album: "Country Classics 1971-1979"
Songwriters/Composer: W.L. (Bill) Ryland;