The Quadbike Ballad

Wheeling her out, glistening in the midday sun,
the quadbike, a marvelous machine,
revving the engine, we’re off an away,
the dust trails us, the path thins, oh the beauty of this scene.

Country air so pure.
zipping like a bee,
this is freedom at its best,
under the Magpie Tree,

We’re going at a steady pace,
when, with a splutter, the engine turns off,
'not here, not now,' to my feelings I give in,
being back for tea seems far off.

Country air so pure,
zipping like a bee,
until the engine whirs out,
under the Magpie Tree.

The decision has been made,
we must wheel her in,
I’ll steer, you push,
onwards, the sun beats down on our skin.

Country air so pure,
country sun so mean,
my throat cries for water,
what a day this has been.

We arrive home at sunset, to cries of where have you been?
after the engine conked out, we had to wheel her in,
then my brother Jake spoke up, 'we turned the fuel key off,'
'oh, you little rascal, you will never win.'

Country air so pure,
in this world I am so free,
I’ll chase you till the morning,
under the Magpie Tree.