Heart of the Sunburnt Land

A Migrant's Tale


Peter Pickering

3/6/20241 min read

In the heart of bush, 'neath Southern skies so vast,

Two battlers came, their lot with fortunes cast.

From distant shores, to this sunburnt land they sped,

Carrying dreams where many fears tread.

With calloused hands and spirits tough as nails,

They faced the bush, with hopes that never pales.

The bloke, he toiled from dawn till set of sun,

His sheila's strength, like creek in drought, ne'er done.

Their shanty stood, 'midst eucalypts so tall,

A testament to grit, they gave it all.

Laughter scarce, but love ne'er in drought,

In this wide brown land, their roots sprout.

Hard yakka 'neath the blazing Aussie sun,

Their battle with the land, never done.

Yet in their hearts, a fire of hope burned bright,

Together, through each harsh day and night.

This tale of yore, in bush ballads we sing,

Of migrant love and toil, and the strength they bring.

In a land of dreams, so harsh yet fair,

Their legacy endures, beyond compare.

© Peter Pickering 2023. www.peterpickering.com