So you’ve come to Young’s to get awayFrom the things that nag and hark,The places and paces that spoil a dayAnd shadowy thoughts that turn so dark.I guess you’ve come from salty airsBy the long white sandy coast,Where scrubby bush and headland pairsMake sheltered bays for bobbing boats.Or maybe your house of pretty huesIs lost in the city’s wilderness,Where millions of souls ache for viewsOf something better than ugliness.Then again you could be off the plainsWhere many miles make up a day,And the sky is big, your heart is big,There’s little to get in your way.Wherever your home, wherever your placeI’m pleased you’ve come this way.Because whatever your way, whatever your face,You’ll be richer when on your way.