...Conflict...
Tram-tickets whirl on their joyous way In a dusty town, on a dusty day, Trees bend down in the wilting heat With tired limbs on the listless street. A North-west wind blows low, blows high, And over the chimney pots peeps the sky... Ever so blue...and ever so far... . While the trams in the distance moan and jar. . But standing here, how I long and long For the country skylark’s endless song... I know how the blossoms will drift to-day, I know what the river will have to say, I know how the bees there drone... and drone.. (And the lilac bush will be out alone). How the gorse will be reaching arms aglow To the setting sun... OhI know! I know! But here I am on this dusty day, While I long to be up and away... away, And though it is raining a dusty rain My heart is out in. the fields.again ... .
A.N.I.
C.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/RADREC19310123.2.70.3
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Radio Record, Volume IV, Issue 28, 23 January 1931, Unnumbered Page
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157...Conflict... Radio Record, Volume IV, Issue 28, 23 January 1931, Unnumbered Page
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