Peter Taylor, master cattleman
His son John on his pony, travelling
Kicking up a dust storm
On the plains they call their home
With them rides young Morris Youngy
The second son of old Gilungy
Just part of the family
Like his father was before
And now young John Taylor holds the answer
He's colour blind, so it don't matter
He treats each man just as he finds him
The scales of age won't blind him
Young John does school of the air
And these bush kids, they work in pairs
So Morris' son, they call him Michael
Shares the books he reads and writes with
They've grown up as thick as thieves
So will things change when John leaves?
He's been taught to trust his mind
So time will find he won't
And now young John Taylor holds the answer
He's colour blind, so it don't matter
He treats each man just as he finds him
The scales of age won't blind him
And now Michael's land is young John's country
He just crossed the path of time and friendship
It just takes time
And now young John Taylor holds the answer
He's colour blind, so it don't matter
He treats each man just as he finds him
The scales of age won't blind him
Young John Taylor holds the answer
He's colour blind, so it don't matter
He treats each man just as he finds him
The scales of age won't blind him
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