The rivers are dry across the land and the farmers fields have turned to sand
'Cause the rain hasn't come for two years going on three
The topsoil's gone with the hot north wind, the crops won't grow and rust set in
And the cruel south wind of winter brought no relief
And the old men in the public bar talk of floods and droughts before
And as the night goes on the conversations die
But the battlers don't give up, it's written on their hands
And in their eye-eye-eye-eye-eyes, and the spirit of the land survives
And on Saturday night...
Unfortunately, we are not licensed to display the full lyrics for this song at the moment due to a DMCA takedown request.