He looked out of place in the big city park where he stopped for a rest on a seat
And I guessed from his suntanned weathered old face and the horseman's boots on his feet
He'd come from somewhere away in the west you could see he was lonely that day
I thrust out my hand he grinned as he shook it I sat down and bid him G'day
He started yarning and soon it was clear he longed for the land further out
Where he'd lived as a youth drovin' Queensland mobs with his mates down the Murranji route
In the days when road trains were still unknown on tracks where there weren't many bores
He spoke of wild rides and of rushes he'd seen in bringing in Ord river stores
So many nights he had raced for the lead of a thirst crazed fear maddened pack
When Kimberley bullocks had broke from the camp in the scrub on the Murranji track
He mentioned the heat and the famines and floods and hardships which few of us know
He'd seen stockroutes like movin' green oceans of grass in those days long ago
He recalled how he'd seen near the Marion gate wild sorghum stirrup iron high
Lagoons filled with water wild fowl and lilies and the land where the flock pigeons fly
I wished as he yarned with a lump in my throat that someone could wind back the clock
So he could go back with the mates he had known on the road with the Kimberley stock
Oh looked out of place in the big city park where he stopped for a rest on a seat
Oh I remember his suntanned weathered old face and the horseman's boots on his feet
Still yarning he dozed and I left him to dream of stockroutes all covered with clover
And of times I think when I stroll in the park of my yarn with that old homesick drover

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