For nearly sixty years IÂ've been a cocky,
Of droughts and fires and floods
IÂ've lived through plenty,
This countryÂ's dust and mud
have seen my tears and blood,
But itÂ's nearly over now and now IÂ'm easy.
I married a fine girl when I was twenty,
She died in giving birth
when she was thirty,
No flying doctor then
just a gentle old black gen,
But itÂ's nearly over now and now IÂ'm easy.
She left me with two sons and a daughter,
And a bone dry farm whose soil
cried out for water,
Though me care was rough and ready
they grew up fine and steady,
But itÂ's nearly over now and now IÂ'm easy.
Me daughter married young
and went her own ways,
My sons lie buried by the Burma railway,
So on this land IÂ've made me home
IÂ've carried on alone,
But itÂ's nearly over now and now IÂ'm easy.
Oh city folks these days despise the cocky,
Saying with subsidies
and dole weÂ've had it easy,
But thereÂ's no drought or starving stock
on the sewered suburban block,
But itÂ's nearly over now and now IÂ'm easy
