Going To The River With Dad

I’m going to the river with dad
In the kitchen the old kettle’s singing
I’m gonna get up soon and get out of bed
Outside the cockatoos are calling
I’m going to the river with dad 
I’m half awake and half dreaming

Now we’re driving down that old, bumpy track
Between us the thermos of sweet tea steaming
Lines and spears and bait up the back
That old river appearing and disappearing
I’m going to the river with dad
All my brothers and sisters are still sleeping

We’re going for the good silver mullet
At the back of the boat I’m steering
Dad’s standing up front with his spear
Deep into the mangroves peering
I gotta keep my tiller hand steady
I don’t wanna see my daddy stumbling and falling
I’m going down the river with dad
With the song of the birds in the morning

He’s long gone, I’ve passed his span
But myself against him I’m still measuring
Aiming for the mark of a man
Sometimes hitting it, sometimes missing
Trying to fill the unforgiving minute
With the full sixty seconds of living
Yeah, I’m still on the river with dad
With the birdsong bringing the dawn in