Planted Creek

© Graeme Jensen

Grandad was a bullocky back in 1933
A real tough job was haulin’ logs, he was young and he was free
He met up with a lady who loved the bush as much as he
They made their home a canvas hut, in a place called Planted Creek

My Nanna worked as hard as heck tryin’ to keep the camp real clean
She worked all day, hooked chains to logs, then a camp oven feed for tea
These people are my heroes, and they will always be
A bullocky and his new wife way up in Planted Creek

Chorus
Way up in planted creek
Living wild and being free
They carved their names in our history
Way up in Planted Creek

Grandad was a big bloke, as strong as you and me
He could whip a fly from a bullocks ear from almost thirty feet
Nine strong healthy bullocks, the old wagon loaded neat
A bullocky and his load of logs way up in Planted Creek

He named his bullocks one by one, he new them front to back
If they slowed down or messed around, you could hear that big whip crack
But he would never hurt them, he loved them like a friend
He’d feed and water and bed them down when the day would end

Chorus

Their first born had came along, blessed by the old gum trees
A healthy boy named Kevin Earl, to start their family tree
My Nanna kept on working, still young and strong and free
A bullocky and his family way up in Planted Creek

The time had come to move along, and leave old Planted Creek
They headed down the mountains, and settled in Spring Valley
Their memories last forever as long as I am here to sing
About a bullocky and his family from good old Planted Creek.