The Postie
When the dogs start barking,
It can be music to the ears...
As the good old Aussie postie,
On his scooter finally nears...
They come bearing mail,
And sometimes parcels for us all...
You can set your clock by them,
Each time they come and call...
Working in all weather,
Delivering all that mail...
The good old Aussie postie,
Always there without fail...
The dogs they just love them,
Waiting patiently all day...
They love to run and chase them,
As they pass along their way...
It can be a thankless job,
As they sort mail day and night...
Thousands of little parcels,
And the letters that you write...
Then they pack them into bags,
And the postie does the rest...
Delivering all that mail,
North south east and west...
Ten thousand red scooters,
Ride the footpaths of our nation...
All delivering mail,
To a different location...
The sound of that horn,
Let’s you know your mail is finally here...
Then they ride into the distance,
And slowly disappear...
So next time you open that letterbox,
To see what is inside...
Give a thought to the old postie,
And the many miles that they will ride....
Len Newey 2012