Many a mother in America
When the busy day is done
Sends a Prayer to the Almighty
For the keeping of her Son.


Asking that an Angel guide him
And bring him safely back
Now we see those prayers are
Answered on the Owen Stanley track.


Tho' they haven't any halos
Only holes slashed through the ear
Their faces marked with tattoo's
And scratch pins in their hair.


Bringing back the badly wounded
Just as steady as a hearse
Using leaves to keep the rain off
And as gentle as a Nurse.


Slow and careful in bad places
On that awful mountain track
And the look upon their faces
Made us think that Christ was black.


Not a move to hurt the carried
As they treat him like a Saint
It's a picture worth recording
That an Artist's yet to paint.


Many a lad will see his mother
and the husbands, we'uns and wives
Just because the Fuzzy Wuzzies
Carried them to save their lives.


From Mortar or Machine gun fire
Or a chance surprise attack
To safety and the care of Doctors
At the bottom of the track.


May the Mothers of America
When they offer up a prayer
Mention these impromptu Angels
With the "Fuzzy Wuzzy" hair.