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Old Mr Murphy's a friend to all
Especially the animals large and small
Especially the animals large and small.

Old Mr Murphy lives all alone
At the bottom of a hill in a house of stone
A house that he built from the things around
The soil, the stones and the timber he found.

Each day to Blackheath he walks the track
For his daily supplies then he's heading back
A smile or a greeting along the way
"How y'keeping Mr Murphy?" and the odd "g'day"

His blue eyes pierce the fading light
He starts the fire and prepares for night
Then knocks his old pipe on his dusty old heel
And checks the billy and prods at his meal

A whistle is heard and the silence ends
It's old Mr Murphy calling his friends
In the evening shadows the bush comes alive
As the animals and birds begin to arrive

There's food for all creatures, the gang gang and quail
Brown wallabies and possums and the willy wagtail
The old man smiles broadly, his teeth displayed
As he stares at the sanctuary his kindness has made

On Sunday the tourists would come to his door
And the people would marvel at the things they saw
A kind old man with snowy hair
Treating the animals with so much care

Then the bushfires came and his house was destroyed
He lost the place that he once enjoyed
He returned for a while but it wasn't as before
He was taken away and heard of no more

© Jim Low

Across the Blue Mountains CD-Jim Low
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