A shearer I was for many long years
My aching back I cured with beers
so calloused hands could work next day
for dreams of living a different way
free of pain in places unknown
to making a bed I'd call my own
to stand in life not bending down
viewing dreams so close to ground
as time went past I earned that bed
shearing sheep in somebody's shed
I worked the wool for permanent cost
when young and strong a kidney I lost
now comes that dream of a different way
I left that life the very next day
and made that bed I now call mine
I lay within now ruing the time
I drank for a pain I felt was true
I drank for a cure without a clue