There is a lovely song, don't know who wrote it but from Australia, I think, called "I'll Keep the old place til the children come home."

On a lonely selection, away in the West
There lived an old woman who worked without rest
And she crooned as she toiled 'neath the sky's glassy dome
"I'll keep the old place 'til the children come home"

For she mends all the fences, she lambs and she plows
She drives the old horse, she milks all the cows
And she says to herself as she patches the stack
"I'll keep the old place 'til the children come back."

Whenever the scowling old Sundowners come
And cunningly as if the master's at home
"Be off," she replies, "with your blarney and cant
Or I'll call my son Andy who's working behant.

"Be off," she replies, though she trembles with fear
For she lives all alone, and with no neighbors near
And she thinks to herself when she's like to despond
That her boys are at work in the paddock beyond

Well, it's 5 lonely years since her old husband died
And oft as he lay on his deathbed he sighed,
"A man can bring up 10 children he can,
But it's strange that 10 sons cannot keep one old man."

For none of her children need follow the plow
And some have grown rich in the city ere now
But she thinks they might come when the shearing is done
And she'll keep the old place if it's only for one.