| Shes my mother, she’s my aunty, she is many that I’ve known
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| The backbone of the bush, where country kids have grown
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| She’s raised and she’s nurtured those children of her own
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| While her man does his battles on the land
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| And he comes in from the shearing, still aching in the back
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| The kids are finally tucked away, her days are never slack
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| But she makes it look so easy, as she cooks him up a storm
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| That unselfish, unsung hero of the land
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| She’s keeping books, she’s nursing, raising money for the town
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| She’s the last one standing, when all is falling down
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| Ferocious as a tiger to defend her little clan
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| My hero the woman on the land
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| So I propose a toast, to the mothers that we know
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| Proud to be the better half, who really run the show
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| And if you shed a tear boys, I will understand
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| To our hero the woman on the land
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| Instrumental
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| And he comes in from the harvest, a disappointing yield
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| He’s tired and he’s dusty, twelve hours in the field
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| And although her day’s been difficult, she greets him with a smile
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| That unselfish, unsung hero of the land
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| So I propose a toast, to the mothers that we know
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| Proud to be the better half, who really run the show
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| And if you shed a tear boys, I will understand
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| To our hero the woman on the land
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| To our hero, the woman on the land |