I have a mate who’s a digger and served his country in the ‘Ghan.
Now his wife gets upset when he’s too long on the can.

He would wear all the webbing and dress in camouflage.
All he worries on these days is if the nappy packet’s large.

He was really good at explosives and loved the demolition.
Now finding parking at the shops is his hardest mission.

His equipment would help him see at night and detect explosive devices. 
He buys petrol on a Tuesday when there’s more favourable prices. 

He’d keep up to date with footy and knew all of the scores.
He barely watches a match now with all his domestic chores.

He could endure all the elements and had to withstand pain.
He now watches footy from the couch if it even looks like rain.

He would think about his family, his kid he missed a lot.
His days are filled with tears and often wiping away snot. 

He scouted the land for IED’s and would have the back of every mate.
He’s quick to soothe his kid if there are nightmares to abate.  

His days were full of order and he would follow rank.
And if his kid plays up there’ll be no Thomas the Tank.

He handled hours of training and could get by sleep deprived.
Now he calls on his skills when the in-laws all arrive.
He could shoot a can from a 100 yards– for that he was quite good.
He cherishes every moment with his child, like every parent should.

He served his country proudly and put his life on the line.
I’m proud there is a digger who is a friend of mine.