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Shes my mother, she's my aunty, she is many that I've known |
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The backbone of the bush, where country kids have grown |
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She's raised and she's nurtured those children of her own |
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While her man does his battles on the land |
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And he comes in from the shearing, still aching in the back |
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The kids are finally tucked away, her days are never slack |
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But she makes it look so easy, as she cooks him up a storm |
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That unselfish, unsung hero of the land. |
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She's keeping books, she's nursing, raising money for the town, |
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She's the last one standing, when all is falling down, |
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Ferocious as a tiger to defend her little clan, |
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My hero the woman on the land. |
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So I propose a toast, to the mothers that we know |
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Proud to be the better half, who really run the show |
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And if you shed a tear boys, I will understand |
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To our hero the woman on the land |
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Instrumental |
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And he comes in from the harvest, a disappointing yield |
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He's tired and he's dusty, twelve hours in the field |
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And although her day's been difficult, she greets him with a smile |
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That unselfish, unsung hero of the land. |
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So I propose a toast, to the mothers that we know |
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Proud to be the better half, who really run the show |
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And if you shed a tear boys, I will understand |
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To our hero the woman on the land |
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To our hero, the woman on the land. |
