Driving along my favourite road,
I managed to find my past,
And reflect on Old Joe’s memory,
This is where I knew him last.

In the tall blue gum bush,
Around the dry bracken rows,
The wind still whistles Old Joe’s tune,
“Buttons and Bows”.

And the birds that he trapped there,
Still abound and sing,
He never harmed an animal,
That soared on the wing.

This place was his hideaway,
For he loved it the most,
The rolling hillside getaway,
Far away from the coast.

Enter at your own risk,
Old Joe’s trail’s through the herds,
Wild bull’s and their cattle,
How he loved those birds.

It all took me back,
Just seems so long ago,
To another treasured memory,
Of my father Old Joe.