On Every Anzac Day
Ghosts and memories are loitering still in the corridors of time
There's sorrow, smoke and stories in the barracks of my mind
I'm with him still in the trenches, I can see his dark, brown eyes
And his courage gave me courage when I was sure we were going to die
I asked him once why he volunteered for that hellhole far away
To fight for someone else's king and the land they took away
He said "One invading mob's too many" and then he walked away
And I lost him in the crowds waving flags on the side of the road — like every Anzac Day
From Murray Bridge and Mundrabilla, from Naracoote and Perth
First Australian station hands, shearers, gangers, clerks...
And there was no black, there was no white, just a dirty khaki brown
And on our upturned slouch hat brims, we all wore the "Rising Sun"
Soldiers, brothers, all Australians, we had no time for race
When the bullets are whining past your head, you're all just shades of grey
