Conversation in the embers, that dusty ashy glow,
Voices that still echo in the mornings early show
A fire so warm and friendly, good chat, a bonza mate,
And it was only last night that we met, such is fate.

Out the back of Camooweal, round near Avon Downs,
Underneath the southern stars, again there it was found,
A friendship struck up easily, round the campfire deep,
Provoking many childhood thoughts and too, promoting sleep.

Many morns and evenings, on grassy flats and dirt,
Patterns of our lives have flickered as we flirt.
With the glowing coals, a bottle shared with all
Helps to oil the chattering, til bedtime makes its call.

A mornings embers always bring back thoughts of long ago,
As a leaf or a stick is rested on the glow,
Wisping smoke curls and climbs, gumleaf odour strong,
Stoke the old camp oven spot, the dampers come along.

Elbows on the knees, perched on stump or log,
Peering at the toe caps where my feet are shod
Dewy moisture covered, with the whitest ash,
The billys boiled, so uncoil, to the tucker dash.

A bit of pig and cackleberry, butter on the damper,
What a life way out here, better than cold champers.
Moon still hangs, horizon glows, changing by the minute,
Such a freedom brought about by a campfire and whats in it.

Yes, campfire conversations, too many to relate,
Kept awake half the night, yakkin to a mate
With guitar and a song, a drop or two of oil,
Love mornings talk round the embers, watchin billy boil.