Sanctuary Scorned

I 'ad been bushed in city streets,
Where the bricks and mortar grow.
I 'ad worked me way through the northern towns
'Oo's landmarks I don't know.
There was faces, faces, driftin' past,
But never a one I knoo.
An' I never 'ad felt the need so great
For a reel good mate an' true.

A lonely man in the Outback lands
Is a lonely man, all right.
Yet 'e 'as the sky an' the birds by day
An' 'e 'as the stars by night.
But a lonely man in a crowd o' men
Is the loneliest of all,
An' that's 'ow come I 'ad a few;
An' that's 'ow come my fall.

Fer I sez to meself, "I'm a stranger 'ere,
An' there ain't a soul I know."
Then I thinks of a Mate I alwiz 'ad
Where the stunted mulgas grow -
The Man 'oo ever 'as been my friend
Through many a black bush night;
An' I thinks, "If I find His house round 'ere,
He'll give me a doss, all right."

An' I come to His house as I stumbled on,
An' I found the door ajar;
As it alwiz stands in the Christian lands
Fer blokes that wander far;
So up I crep' to the altar step,
An' I sez . . . "I'm 'ere again."
I knew He'd spare what nap was there,
So I lodged with the Mate of Men.

Yes: I found His house, an' I lay me down,
An' I dreamed of a kindly God;
When a big policeman came along
An' banged me into quod.
An' the cell was cold, an' the bed was 'ard;
But I thinks, "It's all right, Bill."
So I lay me down an' dreamed again . .
An' my Mate was with me still.