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A close family friend recently retired after living his whole life in the same small South Australian town. [Incidentally, it is where my wife also grew up with her parents and sisters on a farm just up the road.] Like many retired Australians, he found himself in a bit of a bog. Compared to Adelaide prices, his house is not worth much, so he cannot sell up and move to the big smoke. Now the hospital has closed down, most of the shops are gone and he is literally trapped. But he still loves his old town so he will stick around and make the most of it.
Player Credits:
Glenn Wilson – Drums
Ian Lees– Bass Guitar
Duncan Toombs - Acoustic Guitar
Michel Rose – Steel Guitar
Stuart French – Electric, Acoustic and Baritone Guitars
Tim Wedde – Keyboards
Mick Albeck - Fiddle
James Gillard – Backing Vocals
written by Anthony Classen
This old town just ain’t the same
The banks have closed , just the pub remains
Businesses have gone
Mates have all moved on
And the fishing holes dry
This ain’t no place to retire
He’s been pumping bowsers all his life
In his old town
Since the new road house has opened up
He’s had to close down
Too old to start again
Got no fire left in him
And hell knows where can he go
Chorus
Golds left with the rain
From this old town
The days when you’d pick wool
From the barb wire fence
And sold pound for a pound
The good old days have gone
It’s a place he don’t belong
Like the freeway it’s passed him by
Chorus
These old Towns just ain’t the same
It’s all about money in some corporate game
Services have gone
Governments watch on
As old towns die
This old town just ain’t the same
The banks have closed, just some pubs remain
Stock agents have gone
Mates have moved on
And the fishing holes dry
No this ain’t no place for an old man to retire