A Land He Calls His Own - Slim Dusty

The big old bullocks walking down the red and dusty

track

Far from the coast and the city lights in the heart of

the great outback

And close behind on a big bay horse astride his leather

throne

Sits a native of Australia, in a land he calls his own.

Though his by birth, the laws of man, have kept him

from this place

And weeping spirits of the soil kept calling to his

race,

Though the earth is cold and empty now, since he

wandered from his home

Where is our native brother, in this land he calls his

own.

When sacred soil was plundered, and the elders made a

stand

Their words were left rejected and drove them to the

sand

And the big man in the city, happy with the deal hed

sold

Condemned a thousand people, from the land they call

their own.

The land is dead and silent and the white man’s hand is

gone

And the trees and birds have left us, and the more we

hear their song

Though theyve lift the spirit from you and carved you

to the bone

Were back to claim our birthright this place we call

our home,

So big bullocks walking down the red and dusty track

Far from the coast and the city lights in the heart of

the great outback

And close behind on a big bay horse astride his leather

throne

Sits a native of Australia, In a land he calls his own.