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lirik lagu two hundred years on – mitchell burnside clapp

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they sent him up from sydney on a seven*year
one more reluctant pioneer
with a past that wasn’t quite within the law
they put him in a cell to do his time
set him working in a mine
where greyish clinging dust was all he saw

when his time was done, in the rock he stayed;
for one more time he’d been betrayed
by his body and a lower gravity
and the busker singing in the corridor
he played a song he’d heard before—
it went: “who’ll come a*waltzing matilda with me?”

sp*cesuits patched with tape and twine
selling drills, his own design
a trail of regrets to mark where he had been
and his home hung neatly centered in the airlock’s porthole door
an endless black, a distant dream of green

an exile now from gravity
no friends to the authority
he made a life beneath a league of stone
he married well and raised a son
the only worthwhile thing he’d done
today he doesn’t feel so much alone
to put the tucker on the plate
these days, you’ll see him navigate
a bus across a desert lunar sea
and the line runs around inside his head—
was it something that his father said?
it goes: “who’ll come a*waltzing matilda with me?”

billabong’s just a frozen pond a hundred meters down
the squatter drives a thoroughbred of steel
and if he runs forever, would his life be all in vain?
at least, that’s how it makes him feel
still the line runs around inside his head
was it something that his father said?
it goes: “who’ll come a*waltzing matilda with me?”

“waltzing matilda, waltzing matilda
who’ll come a*waltzing matilda with me?
waltzing matilda, waltzing matilda
who’ll come a*waltzing matilda with me?”

and the busker singing in the corridor
he plays a song he’s heard before—
it goes: “who’ll come a*waltzing matilda with me?”

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