It's a purple, dusky sky, with the hot air drying clothes on the hoist,
Mum's dinner's on the barbie, with the lamb roast looking moist.
Us kids are done playing cricket, with Gramps behind the stumps,
I bowled bouncers at my brother, now I'm laughing at his lumps.
The grass is crying from the heat, it needs to get some water on it,
The sprinkler would work better if my little brother would get off it.
The yell goes out "Come get it!", time to dig in to our grub,
But Mum has overcooked it and Dad's dreaming of his pub.
But I still scoff down my meal, on another Aussie Day.
And remind my Pop of his bad jokes like any other day.
But then says Pop "Hey what you get crossin' an Elephant with a Roo?"
"Big holes across Australia" I say, "You need jokes that are new!"
The mozzies start to bite from that river out the back.
You know the night is over when they all start to attack.
The sky is still that purple, dusky sky when night is dry.
There's nothing like the sight, past them gum trees, to the sky.
Bring all the fam into the house to have a drink infront the telly.
An Aussie Day kept in my mind, in my heart and in my belly.
- tork
