By a warm electric heater,
In a softly padded chair.
In a lounge room brightly lighted
By a glowing chandelier.
since my early days of droving,
The years have taken toll.
But I somehow miss my swag-wrap
By a fire of Gidgee Coal.
When I wake from sleep each morning,
And I ring the bedside bell,
then the maid brings in my breakfast,
And she fills my pipe as well.
There are cakes, and sweetened coffee,
On a tray of sparkling gold.
But I miss black tea and damper,
By a fire of Gidgee Coal.
I am driven out each evening,
By a chauffer, spruce and neat.
Through the flowered parks and gardens,
And the crowded city streets.
But I drift back through the ages,
As the big car softly rolls,
To a stock-route, and a wagonette,
And a fire of Gidgee Coal.
I attend all the social parties,
In the rich parts of the town.
Drinking wine from fancy glasses,
As the waiters go their rounds.
But I'd rather share a bottle,
With my droving mates of old.
In a pair of dusty moleskins,
By a fire of Gidgee Coal.
...In a pair of dusty moleskins,
By a fire of Gidgee Coal.
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Lyrics submitted by Warwick Shirref.