Holidays

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We went to Bathurst
for the weekend,
The paddocks were
ever so green,
We're in a bad drought,
Yet here there's been rain,
Now these paddocks are
green once again.

The journey began
in pouring rain,
The forecast was bleak
for three more days;
We were hoping that
it would be clearing,
After we crossed the
Great Dividing.

Each side of the road
there were wattles,
I've never seen
so much yellow!
The traffic was heavy,
The road was narrow,
I wanted so much
for a photo.

West toward Orange,
Wellington too,
Patchwork scenes of
canola fields,
Like golden carpets,
Spread out on the ground,
Rimmed by blue hills they
simply astound.

White shorn sheep studded
green grassy slopes,
Sunlight painting
each picture bright;
No shimmering heat,
No dusty brown turf,
How the rain quickens
life in the earth.

Some of the paddocks were
pasture improved,
Still green it was
up in the hills,
Some of the paddocks
Were sown with fodder,
To God be all praise
and all honour.

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