Grandpa’s Compass

This compass I hold, Has many stories to be told,
It belonged to my Grandpa, A man brave and bold, Grandpa liked the bush, Especially the trees,
He loved to roam wherever he pleased, He also loved to hunt and fish, And nothing pleased him more, Than a trout on his dish, Or rabbit stew on his plate, To share with a mate, When wandering in the bush so far from town, Through hills and gullies going up and down, It’s too easy to lose your way on a track, How on earth would you find your way back? Grandpa had his compass which always passed the test, It showed him the way North South East and West, So when he was ready to head for his home, His compass would guide him he was never alone, When I’m feeling lost with nowhere to turn, Perhaps it can guide me and help me to learn.