Tales from the Sand Hills

   Around the campfire burning low, yet still gives off a warming       glow

 Down on the ever warming ground, the weary men sat all around             

 They passed some time at idle play, that holds the loneliness at bay          

 And they tell tales of days gone by, while stars looked on in blackened sky

 As Bushmen dream in swags remote, the dingoes howl their eerie note

 And God alone stands watch at night, beside that camp fire burning bright

 There ain't no angels to lend a hand, out there in no man’s land