For nearly sixty years IĀ've been a cocky,
Of droughts and fires and floods
IĀ've lived through plenty,
This countryĀ's dust and mud
have seen my tears and blood,
But itĀ's nearly over now and now IĀ'm easy.
I married a fine girl when I was twenty,
She died in giving birth
when she was thirty,
No flying doctor then
just a gentle old black gen,
But itĀ's nearly over now and now IĀ'm easy.
She left me with two sons and a daughter,
And a bone dry farm whose soil
cried out for water,
Though me care was rough and ready
they grew up fine and steady,
But itĀ's nearly over now and now IĀ'm easy.
Me daughter married young
and went her own ways,
My sons lie buried by the Burma railway,
So on this land IĀ've made me home
IĀ've carried on alone,
But itĀ's nearly over now and now IĀ'm easy.
Oh city folks these days despise the cocky,
Saying with subsidies
and dole weĀ've had it easy,
But thereĀ's no drought or starving stock
on the sewered suburban block,
But itĀ's nearly over now and now IĀ'm easy
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