Rosewood Hill

歌詞

by John Williamson She had her back to him As he walked in through the door He'd been down in the forest He said, "I cut me a walkin' stick palm Down by the stingin' tree Never thought I'd see the day I'd need one" She said, "The real estate people came again today I made them a pot of tea They said we'd fetch a million dollars For our little old 'Rosewood Hill' I guess they thought we might consider What would we do with a million When we own paradise Buy us an acre of sand You tell those eager beavers They won't be talkin' to me This paradise is not for sale" He's the last of the old cow cockies Up there in the clouds Wouldn't white-coast gold shoes love to get Their hands on his land Smell the crispy bacon Spit and crackle on the fry The promise of a brand new day Shake the cloudy blanket And throw it to the sky The valley takes your breath away The crows are perched and waitin' The family dreams of gold Surely soon the old man will fade away