Packing oranges at the Moorook packing shed
The only job in those days that was to be had
In that tiny Riverland town...
Where we used to live...
So we stood there all day long
Many women together...
Exhausted to say the least...
Hearing all that constant roaring noise...
Ah that was the nature of the beast...
The machinery was ever moving
It was never silent during those long days
For those oranges had to be packed
And shipped all over the country side...
When we packed for export it was different
Each orange was individually wrapped
In a piece of pale waxed paper...
Then placed into that cardboard box
Sealed and stamped and off it went
Over the seas to be sold and eaten abroad...
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