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Comments about Ralph Carpenter
Wind, Sun, And Sand.
The wind it whistles wearifully, through whitened wattle leaves,
and the sun has bleached the bark on the many fallen trees,
The sand blows around in eddies, about the house where no one stays,
blowing dust through tiles and rafters, burnt by the suns hot rays.
That was once a farm lads, said the stockman passing by.
It's land once ripe with golden wheat, with a billabong nearby.
But because of greed and avarice, the global warming came,
and the land once full of wonder, now dies through lack of rain.