The Camp
The mates are all fishing and doing alright
They've hooked up a Codfish or two
The coals are all glowing the camp ovens hot
There's a bit of camp cooking to do

They are laughing and joking and mucking about
And are sitting down sipping on beer
There's Willy and Wazza and Camperbear to
All happy bout camping out here

There's Rob and he's wearing a battered old hat
And Mikel is setting up digs
The mateship and friendship is just everywhere
And you wouldn’t be dead now for Quids

But I see now that this camp is all in my mind
Course the camp oven cook wandered by
With his Furhpy camp oven a swinging in hand
And a gleam and a twinkle in eye

He was tramping along with a lot on his mind
Followed closely by television crew
The cameras were rolling while he mixed up his dough
And he cooked up a real bushies stew

The alarm just went off and I get out of bed
To get dressed for my day on the job
And I saddle up horses while they sniff and they stamp
Then I call for my trusty old dog

And I wonder in passing as I quite often do
What would happen if all this was true
A day in the bush with all of your mates
And a feed from a camp oven to  
   







OLD MATES IN THE BUSH
As sunset sets behind the hills
And birds call from the branches
The sound of water in the creek
The fall of night advances

A few old mates who sit and talk
Of memories and friends
Around a campfire warm and bright
In bushland setting once again

A cup of tea a nice cold beer
And perched on some old log
A puff of dust a hind leg thumps
The flea on my old dog

The smoke that rises from the fire
Brings back the smell of bushland
Of gum leaves sharp with eucalypt
Just for an aussie bushman

A kangaroo an old wombat
Move by in quick procession
The moving picture of the bush
Brings rise to the old question

How could we move away from this
And live in towns and cities
Just give up all this peace and quiet
You really must be pitied

So I turn to God "Just in my mind"
And thank him though its late
For giving me the time and chance
To share this with old mates  
   




Camp Cooking

Food is getting slung about
There’s tucker everywhere
Eel tail catfish it aint trout
But was all we caught out there

The ovens looking nice and hot
And fat is really spitting
The fish is covered all in flour
And spuds are peeled for chipping

The boys are lined up at the fire
With plates all poised for filling
The babbling brook is running sweat
With hungry campers milling

Now back off now you bloody mugs
And let a man keep cooking
And water in a billy can
Wont boil while you are looking

Now take your time and eat it slow
I've cooked enough for all
The old camp ovens done its job
And once again stands tall  
   


THE ANGEL OF THE BUSH

I hear her whisper in the trees
Her smell her special look
The laughing water in the creek
The angel of the bush

The peace the quiet of solitude
Or mateship everywhere
Of campfire smoke just drifting up
The angels waiting there

The scent of bush trees in the air
With the first rays of the sun
Drives deep the love of natures call
The angels having fun

The flowers, rocks a fallen log
The heat upon the ground
She leaves a painting in your heart
The angels called around

And round the campfire late at night
With family and friends
I hear her calling in the trees
The angels come again

She casts her mantle over you
She’s everywhere you look
In every land you'll not escape
The angel of the bush