The Aussie With A Heart Poem by George Savige

An Aussie with a heart of gold
Was panning by a brook.
His fingers numb, his feet were cold
And in the pan he looked.

And as he looks, the old man says
Good grief I've struck it rich.
So then the old man tries again,
For now he's got the itch.

And bending low he toils on,
While looking for some more.
He's thinking as he's working there.
I'll give it to the poor.

I've got enough of worldly goods,
They need it more than me.
He gave away his gold, they say,
To those who needy be.

And people thought that he was great.
This man of wealth and fame.
He kindly helped all those in need.
'Cause when they called he came.

And when at last, he could not work,
His 'friends' all left him there.
He moved away from that small town.
He left for who knows where.

But sadly now he's on his own.
And deeply feels the cold.
His 'friends' had sent him on his way.
Because he had no gold.