The Yorston sons they ploughed the land
Like bullocks in a team
Harnessed all by poverty
With freedom but a dream.

The sweat of toil and dust of soil
Ran in the ploughmen’s eyes
As they ploughed on through all those years
Beneath unchanging skies.

There was a road from Prestonkirk
Which led to higher things –
Rewards, fulfilled potential
That education brings.

They taught the young and healed the old
And helped the in-between
A credit to their origins
In those years that were so lean.

The skies have changed, the people too
The ploughmen’s days have gone
The legacy of their hard toil?
A taste of freedom won!

And now a generation grows
On Canberra’s limestone plains
The sun is shining brighter now
On the Yorstons’ Aussie weans.

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