The train winds west from wagga <br />Me - sitting sweating from the sun <br />My swag up on the swaying rack <br />Now beholden to no-one. <br /> <br />It's a morning on the sky line <br />The sun slides slanting rays <br />The countryside is counting <br />In years and not in days. <br /> <br />Way out west of wagga <br />Is why the journey ends <br />I’m off to find my people <br />And cast off city friends. <br /> <br />My mob came from out that country <br />That the white folks made their own <br />They sent us off to rail yards <br />And Redfern was our home. <br /> <br />It’s hard there housed in Redfern <br />Caught between two worlds <br />The white man's world don't see us <br />Us cut off from our birth. <br /> <br />The line sings out its rhythm <br />The sound of wheel on rail <br />The wheels made in those workshops <br />Those workshops were our gaol. <br /> <br />Way out west of wagga <br />I’m sure that I’ll find my mob <br />I’m told they’re drinking swearing <br />With more flies than there are jobs. <br /> <br />Yeah, I drank drinks with the piper <br />Lost control and do not know <br />Why what is west of wagga <br />Is now where i must go.<br /><br />David Keig<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/way-out-west-of-wagga/
