|
The crops have just started to turn golden brown,
|
Patches of green on retreat
|
The last of the spring rains have swollen the grain
|
Harvest will soon be here
|
|
Ron took delivery of his header last week
|
And there¡¯s contractors rolling through town.
|
The sight of the trains by the silos betray
|
Harvest will soon be here
|
|
The Patterson¡¯s Curse turns from purple to grey
|
The wet winter slips into the past.
|
The sprinklers are showering the lawns around town
|
Harvest will soon be here
|
|
The feed in the long paddock dries in the sun.
|
Only the lucerne is green
|
Talk by the bar is of prices and yields
|
Harvest will soon be here
|
|
So will this be the year that the silos run full
|
The year that the headers run slow
|
The year that the grain trucks will stretch to four deep
|
When the harvest is here.
|
|
Or will this be the year of the hail or the fire
|
Has takeall hit heavy and hard?
|
Will we climb out of debt or just sink deep still?
|
We¡¯ll tell when the harvest is here
|
We¡¯ll tell when the harvest is here.
|
|
|
|
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|
Harvest
|
| Colin Buchanan |
