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South of My Days Lyrics by Judith Wright

Judith Wright

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South Of My Days
South of my days' circle, part of my blood's country,
rises that tableland, high delicate outline
of bony slopes wincing under the winter,
low trees, blue-leaved and olive, outcropping granite-
clean, lean, hungry country. The creek's leaf-silenced,
willow choked, the slope a tangle of medlar and crabapple
branching over and under, blotched with a green lichen;
and the old cottage lurches in for shelter.
O cold the black-frost night. The walls draw in to the warmth
and the old roof cracks its joints; the slung kettle
hisses a leak on the fire. Hardly to be believed that summer will turn up again some day in a wave of rambler-roses,
thrust it's hot face in here to tell another yarn-
a story old Dan can spin into a blanket against the winter.
Seventy years of stories he clutches round his bones.
Seventy years are hived in him like old honey.
Droving that year, Charleville to the Hunter,
nineteen-one it was, and the drought beginning;
sixty head left at the McIntyre, the mud round them
hardened like iron; and the yellow boy died
in the sulky ahead with the gear, but the horse went on,
stopped at Sandy Camp and waited in the evening.
It was the flies we seen first, swarming like bees.
Came to the Hunter, three hundred head of a thousand-
cruel to keep them alive - and the river was dust.
Or mustering up in the Bogongs in the autumn
when the blizzards came early. Brought them down; we
brought them down, what aren't there yet. Or driving for Cobb's on the run
up from Tamworth-Thunderbolt at the top of Hungry Hill,
and I give him a wink. I wouldn't wait long, Fred,
not if I was you. The troopers are just behind,
coming for that job at the Hillgrove. He went like a luny, him on his big black horse.
Oh, they slide and they vanish
as he shuffles the years like a pack of conjuror's cards.
True or not, it's all the same; and the frost on the roof
cracks like a whip, and the back-log break into ash.
Wake, old man. This is winter, and the yarns are over.
No-one is listening
South of my days' circle
I know it dark against the stars, the high lean country
full of old stories that still go walking in my sleep.
Credits
Judith Wright

Judith Wright

About “South of My Days” by Judith Wright

Read the complete lyrics to "South of My Days" by Judith Wright from the album "Judith Wright". On Lyrks you can follow along with the full text, explore the artist's discography, and discover related songs. The track is often categorized under Non-Music, Literature.

"South of My Days" is performed by Judith Wright. from the album "Judith Wright" This page provides the full lyric text for fans who want to sing along, study the songwriting, or compare versions across releases. Lyrks organizes lyrics by artist and song slug so you can bookmark and share a stable URL. Music lyrics help listeners connect with emotion, narrative, and rhythm in a track. Whether you are learning English, researching a favorite chorus, or preparing for karaoke, having accurate line breaks and section labels (verse, chorus, bridge) makes the experience easier. We link to the official artist profile on Lyrks where available, including biography snippets, top songs, and chart placements when we have that data. If you enjoy "South of My Days", explore more songs by Judith Wright using the links below. Chart and trending pages on Lyrks highlight what listeners are searching for this week. For copyright or correction requests, see our DMCA and contact pages.

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Frequently asked questions

"South of My Days" is credited to Judith Wright. Songwriting credits may include additional writers listed on the release; check the credits section on this page for linked collaborators.

"South of My Days" appears on "Judith Wright".

Visit the Judith Wright artist page at /artist/judith-wright for biography, popular tracks, and links to more lyric pages.