If you will open your heart to a friend who is in need
Reach out your hand with a smile you'll be playing the
part
Of a true friend indeed you'll be remembered
With love all the while.
(With love all the while)
A trouble shared can often be a trouble set apart
A helping hand can mean so much to a heaven laden heart
If you will open your heart to a friend who is in need
You'll be remembered as a dear friend indeed.
(A dear friend indeed)
[Instrumental]
A trouble shared can often be a trouble set aside
A helping hand can mean so much when you're on the
downward ride
If you will open your heart to a friend who is in need
You'll be remembered as a dear friend indeed.
There’s horse bound to keep me company and the water’s
to flow near me,
Just an axe mark on a gidgee, I don't want no fancy
grave,
Somewhere out there on the Cooper, there's a quiet spot
near the nine mile,
Where the ringers go each muster, when the gidgee
blossoms wave.
Let the wild horse and the clean skin and the brown bee
in the clover,
Let the wood duck and the emu, all bear witness to my
tomb,
Near that quiet spot at the nine mile make an axe mark
on a gidgee,
That my shrine be always centred, by the western gidgee
blooms.
[Instrumental]
Make an axe mark on a gidgee, I've no wish for marble
headstones,
I’ve got kin in distant places, who may shed a tear and
claim,
I was someone who I wasn’t, well you know the way I
feel,
Just an axe mark on a gidgee and initials for my name.
And in the middle of each muster, when the campers by
the nine mile,
When the steers are being ridden and those sand hills
plow his way,
Try and find the time one evenin' to come by where I’ll
be sleeping
Where an axe mark on a gidgee by the Cooper by my
grave.
[Instrumantal]
Let the wild horse and the clean skin and the brown bee
in the clover,
Let the wood duck and the emu, all bear witness to my
tomb,
Near that quiet spot at the nine mile make an axe mark
on a gidgee,
That my shrine be always centred, by the western gidgee
I’m just like an evenin’ breeze simply doing as I
please,
And I think that you will all agree, that the ramblin’
life is best.
The ramblin’ north and ramblin’ west,
I was born to be a Yodeller, yes siree.
If’ I’d listened to my mum I would have a cattle run,
And a little homestead oh so nice.
But I jumped aboard a train, said I’m gonna’ make a
name,
You will never find me in the same place twice.
[Instrumental & Yodel]
When I left my country school people said I was fool,
I sat down and planned my life you see.
Then I wrote some little songs about the rippling
billabongs,
I was born to be a yodeller , yes siree.
I’m just like an evenin’ breeze simply doing as I
please,
And I think that you will all agree, that the ramblin’
life is best.
The ramblin’ north and ramblin’ west,
I was born to be a Yodeller, yes siree.
[Instrumental & Yodel]
I’m just like an evenin' breeze simply doing as I
please,
But I guess my freedom will not stay.
Cause there’s squeezies by the score, from sixteen to
ninety four,
So I guess that I will fall for one some day.
Oh the dinosaur was a great big thing, he got bigger
every day,
It got so big that it ate and ate 'til it ate it all
away,
Oh, you couldn't hurt that old dinosaur, it had a hide
like armour plate,
But when it wasn't eating right, he died beneath the
weight,
Yes the dinosaur was a great big thing, but now it is
no more,
And I feel that we can learn a lot, from that poor old
dinosaur.
[Instrumental]
Now when I think of the dinosaur, I think of the world
today,
I wonder if we like the dinosaur will waste it all
away,
Yes all those ships and guns and planes and all that
armour plate,
Oh it seems to me already that they're struggling
beneath the weight,
Oh, the dinosaur was a great big thing but it had a
tiny brain,
So it really makes me wonder why we're doin' the same.
[Instrumental]
Oh, they'll stand 'til doom and their brand of right
While the truth is stirrin' the toss,
Bit it seems to me already that the dollar is the boss,
Oh, the end's gonna come and go while they're standin'
on their heads,
Oh, it standing on their dignity too stubborn to change
or bend,
And all the while those sleek machines, eat up more and
more,
And it makes me think once again, that poor old
dinosaur.
{instrumental]
Yes the dinosaur was a great big thing, he got bigger
every day,
It got so big that it ate and ate 'til it ate it all
away,
Yes the dinosaur was a great big thing, but now it is
no more,
And we should learn before it's too late from that poor
old dinosaur,
Yes we should learn before it's too late from that poor
[Spoken]
Stir up the old campfire boys,
For the lemonbark grows pale,
And in the morning again I’ll be gone,
Down some lonely brumby trail.
[Sung]
It's great to be a drover free,
Riding over hill and plains,
By wilder scrubs and waratah,
Gaily singing in my saddle once again.
Just roaming free and roaming wide,
Singing me a drovers song,
By stockyard rails down cattle trails,
I'm just a happy drover roving on.
Where cattle graze and roam out there,
Again I see the Queensland Kangaroo,
Down on the plain where dingos wail,
With the possum and the wombat out there too.
[Yodel]
The scented bloom of the wattle tree,
By the rippling stream that’s ever rollin’ on,
Through the outback bush from city push,
Are mem'ries that are here and never gone.
Where cattle graze and roam out there,
Again I see the Queensland Kangaroo,
Down on the plain where dingos wail,
With the possum and the wombat out there too.
[Yodel}
Well the world is wide and the air is free,
Let me wander through the hills when day is done,
With the girl I know and treasure so,
Into each life some rain must fall
But too much is falling in mine
Into each heart some tears must fall
But some day the sun will shine.
Some folks can lose the blues in their hearts
When I think of you, hey another shower starts
Into each life some rain must fall
But too much is falling in mine.
Into each life some rain must fall
But too much, is fallin' in mine
Into each heart some tears must fall
But some day the sun will shine.
Some folks can lose the blues in their heart
When I think of you, hey another shower starts
Into each life some rain must fall
Too much is fallin' in mine
[spoken:]
Into each life some rain must fall
But too much is fallin' in mine
And into each heart some tears got to fall
And I know that someday that sun is bound to shine.
Some folks can lose the blues in their heart
But when I think of you, hey another shower starts
Into each life some rain must fall
Hey too much is fallin' in mine;
There are friends who'll want you but just for a day
There are pals you think true but they'll cast you away
But there's one loving soul boys I'll sure recommend
Through this old world of sorrow she'll be true till
the end
Mother though her hands are all wrinkled and old
Mother silver hair that has lost all the gold
You left her alone went to roam through the years
But all that you left her were heartaches and tears
So kiss her old brow whisper softly and true
Mother you're just an angel and I love you
On the door of a cottage a wreath sadly hung
And a hearse stood there waiting as the choir softly
sung
There were flowers in their beauty and the old Parson
prayed
This was the last tribute as we left for her grave
She won't meet you tonight son when you crave her
caress
She has reared you to manhood, now you've laid her to
rest
Those flowers in their beauty fragrance to her they're
unknown
Cause tonight she's with the angels up around the great
throne
So don't wait that late son to try and repay
Give those flowers and give those treasures, give them
today
Remember how she loved you and always show you care
She's your mother God loves her she's as true as a
prayer
So kiss her old brow whisper softly and true
There’s some who like to protest and a lot who like to
moan
And no one wants to pay their tax or the interest on
their loan
But as you struggle on through life for all that you
hold dear
Remember that you’ve gotta drink the froth to get the
beer
Hey you’ve gotta drink the froth to get the beer
No matter what you read or no matter what you hear
It’s a lay down hand you bet you’re gonna pay for all
you get
Hey you’ve gotta drink the froth to get the beer
How often have you heard about the overnight success?
The man who made it to the top in a month or two or
less
They say he got it easy with friends who opened doors
But nine times out of ten he’s battled twenty years
before
Hey you’ve gotta drink the froth to get the beer
No matter what you read or no matter what you hear
It’s a lay down hand you bet you’re gonna pay for all
you get
Hey you’ve gotta drink the froth to get the beer
Don’t waste your time complainin’ cause no one wants to
know
In life there’s no rehearsal it’s straight on with the
show
As you’re roarin’ down a highway smooth as a feather
Keep an eye out for a sign that says gravel road ahead
Hey you’ve gotta drink the froth to get the beer
No matter what you read or no matter what you hear
It’s a lay down hand you bet you’re gonna pay for all
you get
Hey you’ve gotta drink the froth to get the beer
Well the days of my riding are over,
And the days of my tramping are done,
I’m about as content as a rover
Will ever be under the sun;
I write, after reading your letter,
My mind with old memories rife,
And I feel in a mood that had better
Not meet the true eyes of the wife.
You must never admit a suggestion,
That the old things are good to recall;
You must never consider the question:
‘Was I happier then, after all?’
You must banish the old hope and sorrow
That make the sad pleasures of life,
You must live for To-day and To-morrow
If you want to be true to the wife.
[Instrumental]
By-the-way, when you’re writing, remember
For you never went drinking with me,
And forget our last night of December,
Lest our sev’ral accounts disagree.
And, for my sake, old man, you had better
Avoid the old language of strife,
For the technical terms of your letter
Will be misunderstood by the wife.
Never hint of the girls appertaining
To the past, when you’re writing again,
For they take such a lot of explaining,
And you know how I hate to explain.
There are some things, we know to our sorrow,
That cut to the heart like a knife,
And your past is To-day and To-morrow
If you want to be true to the wife.
[Instrumental]
No doubt you are dreaming as I did
And going the careless old pace,
But my future grows dull and decided,
And the world narrows down to the Place.
Let it be, if my ‘treason’s’ resented,
You may do worse, old man, in your life;
Let me dream, too, that I am contented
For the sake of a true little wife.
[Spoken]
Whoa Bullocks, whoa there.
[Sung]
Singing Whoa Bullocks, whoa bullocks, whoa bullocks
whoa,
Bringing in the gidgee for they're itching for to go,
Whoa Bullocks, whoa bullocks, whoa bullocks whoa,
Hold up the lead, keep them moving nice and slow.
They're a wild touchy mob from the gulf country run,
And they'll give us lots of action 'ere this roving
trip is done,
Each time they make a break, there's a call for
reckless speed,
To hold back the scrubbers racing madly in the lead.
Singing Whoa Bullocks, whoa bullocks, whoa bullocks
whoa,
Hold up the lead, keep them moving nice and slow.
When we counted out the yard, there were two thousand
head
Two thousand bullocks all Gulf country bred,
A hundred miles behind us and a thousand more to go,
'Til we truck 'em at the border where the Darling River
flows.
Singing Whoa Bullocks, whoa bullocks, whoa bullocks
whoa,
Hold up the lead, keep them moving nice and slow.
There's not too many left of the old droving school,
And these Gulf country cattle can't be handled by a
fool,
So give 'em room to spread boys and let 'em feed along,
And hold up the lead boys if anything goes wrong.
With your Whoa Bullocks, whoa bullocks, whoa bullocks
whoa,
Hold up the lead, keep them moving nice and slow.
There's a long drive ahead, 'fore we hit the final
town,
And the boss drover's worries can really get him down,
You watch 'em on the nightcamp when they're ready for
to leap,
Why they've even got me watching and a-droving in my
sleep.
Singing Whoa Bullocks, whoa bullocks, whoa bullocks
whoa,
Bringing in the gidgee for they're itching for to go,
Whoa Bullocks, whoa bullocks, whoa bullocks whoa,
Hold up the lead, keep them moving nice and slow.
Moving Nice and slow,
Moving Nice and slow.
[Spoken]
They are mustering cattle on Brigalow Vale
Where the stock-horses whinny and stamp,
And where long Andy Ferguson, you may go bail,
Is yet boss on a cutting-out camp.
Half the duffers I met would not know a fat steer
From a blessed old Alderney cow.
Whilst they're mustering there I am wondering here
Who is riding brown Harlequin now?
Are the pikers as wild and the scrubs
Just as dense in the brigalow country as when
There was never a homestead and never a fence
Between Brigalow Vale and The Glen.
Do they yard the big micks 'neath the light of the
moon?
Do the yard-wings re-echo the row
Of stockwhips and hoof-beats?
And what sort of clown is there riding old Harlequin
now?
[Instrumental]
A demon to handle! a devil to ride,
Small wonder the surcingle burst;
You'd have thought that he'd buck himself out of his
hide'
On the morning we saddled him first.
I'd a mind how he cow-kicked the spur on my boot,
And though long ago, still I vow,
If they're wheeling a piker no new-chum galoot
Would be riding old Harlequin now!
I remember the boss how he chuckled and laughed
When they yarded the brown colt for me:
He'll be steady enough when we finish the graft
And have cleaned up the scrubs of Glen Leigh
I am wondering today if the brown horse yet live,
For the fellow who broke him, I trow,
A long lease of soul-ease would willingly give
To be riding brown Harlequin now!
Do you think you can hold him? old Ferguson said,
He was mounted on Hornet, the grey;
I think Harlequin heard him and he shook his lean head,
And he needed no holding that day.
Not the touch from a spur, nor the sting from a whip
As he raced among deadwood and bough
While I sat fairly quiet and just let him rip
But who's riding old Harlequin now?
I could hear them a-crashing the gidgee in front
As the Bryan colt streaked to the lead
Whilst the boss and the boys were out of the hunt
For their horses lacked Harlequin's speed;
The pikers were yarded and skies growing dim
When old Fergie was fain to allow:
The colt's track through the scrub was a knocker to him
But who's riding brown Harlequin now?
From starlight to starlight - all day in between
The foam-flakes might fly from his bit,
But whatever the pace of the day's work had been,
The brown gelding was eager and fit.
On the packhorse's back they are fixing a load,
Where the path climbs the hill's gloomy brow;
They are mustering bullocks to send on the road,
But who's riding old Harlequin now?
Yeah, they are mustering bullocks to send on the road,
But who's riding old Harlequin now?
He sat by the door of the grand old Birdsville Pub,
His swag and gear was guarded by a faithful heeler dog,
He wore a shirt that would blind ya and a rumpled
ringer's hat,
This old man was country, he left no doubt of that.
There was red shift in the lines of his weather beaten
face,
His eyes had seen a lot of changes in the Aussie race,
I'll sing of the horsemen, the depth of the name,
Seems to me he's out, that he turned the better ?pane?
He sat there hillbilly pickin' on a cracked and
battered Gibson,
And the songs that he sang were all his,
Every song told a story and the more that I listened,
The more I realised this is where country is.
Well he sang of mobs of cattle moving down the
Birdsville track,
And the camels carting wool in the early days outback,
He sang of wild eyed scrubbers ridin' flat out in the
night,
Tryin' to ring the mob, 'cause lightning's quick to
fright.
And he sang loudly and proudly of our pioneering race,
I suspect that once that flat was his,
Oh this is early frontier country, lonely dirt floor
hut,
No doubt about it, this man knows where country is.
Well his songs told how they did it and I felt a sense
of shame,
And I wondered if the battler would ever be again,
His pride for his country rang true in every song,
And I wondered if the chips were down if I would be as
strong.
He sat there hillbilly pickin' on a cracked and
battered Gibson,
And the songs that he sang were all his,
Every song told a story and the more that I listened,
The more I realised this is where country is.
{spoken}
Yes mate, No problem there, You know what? Where
Let me wander north to the ho-omestead
Way out further on there to roam
By a gully in flood, let me linger
When the summery sunshine has flown
Where the logs tangle up on the creek beds
And clouds fill the old northern sky
And the cattle move back from the lowlands
When the rain tumbles down in July
The settlers with sad hearts are watching
The rise of the stream from the dawn
Their best crops are always in flood reach
If it rises much more they'll be gone
The cattle string out along the fences
The wind from the south races by
And the limbs from the old gums are fallen
When the rain tumbles down in July
The sleeping gums on the hillside
Awaken to herds strayin' by
Here on the flats where the fences have vanished
As the storm clouds gather on high
The wheels of the wagons stop turning
The stock horse is turned out to stray
The old station dogs are a-dozin'
On the husks in the barn through the day
The drover draws rein by the river
And it's years since he's seen it so high
Yes and that's just a story of homeward
His eyes were used to distance and he talked much with
his hands
I guess he sort of felt hemmed in a stranger to this
land
And a lifestyle of another time, another time and place
Was written there deep in the lines of this old
bushman’s face.
His attire was still in keeping with the far out
channel lands
There was still a strength of character in his hard old
bushman’s hands
And his old hat tilted forward was as much a part of
As the 80 years of livin’ that showed, underneath the
brim.
Just somewhere west of Winton mate is where I'd rather
To ride out in the dawn time, Mitchell to my horses
knee
Unroll my swag beside a fire of some long forgotten
camp
If I listen close maybe I'll hear a tethered night
horse stamp.
[Instrumental]
Just to see again the sunsets as the night falls on the
land
Oh the silent sound of beauty makes the proudest heart
expand
Where the lights of some old homestead beam a warm and
welcome glow
And no travellin’ soul went hungry in those days of
long ago.
I see a dried up sandy creekbed when the dry comes much
too soon
Watch the wild mob paw for water ‘neath an early rising
moon
Maybe I'll see the dust cloud rising from the
travellin’ mob again
Hear the whips crack on the tailers as they cross the
open plain.
Just somewhere west of Winton mate is where I'd rather
To ride out in the dawn time, Mitchell to my horses
knee
Unroll my swag beside a fire of some long forgotten
camp
If I listen close maybe I'll hear a tethered night
Oh I've just learned a lesson that I won't forget
This weddin' knot is like a rope around my neck
I'm sorry that I ever met a girl untrue
I'm walkin' and a-talkin' with my weddin' bell blues.
The fella's tried to warn me she was dynamite
I'm realisin' now that my mates were right
I should have steadied up when the lights showed red
But like a drunken driver I went surgin' ahead.
Now I've just learned a lesson that I won't forget
This weddin' knot is like a rope around my neck
I'm sorry that I ever met a girl untrue
I'm walkin' and a-talkin' with my weddin' bell blues
[Instrumental]
Oh I married her on Thursday when I had my pay
We busted up and parted on the very next day,
She looked at me so sweetly from beneath her furs
I signed away my house and my car to her.
But now she's far away and with the boys again
I'm movin' 'round the town and wonderin' why and when
I'm laughin' to myself, oh what a shock she'll get
When she knows my house and car are both deep in debt.
Then she will learn a lesson that she won't forget
This weddin' knot will be a rope around her neck,
And she'll be sorry that she ever met me, too
She'll be walkin' and a-talkin' with mah weddin' bell
We've done us proud to come this far,
Down through the years to where we are,
Side by side, hand in hand, we've lived and died,
For this great land, we've done us proud.
I sailed the seas in search of freedom,
I tilled the soil for seed to grow,
I built the fences to hold the cattle,
I mined the earth in search of gold.
I sheared the sheep of golden fleeces,
I formed the union, to win fair pay,
I built a railroad to cross the country,
I fought a war for the countrys sake.
(We've done us proud to come this far
Down through the years to where we are
Side by side, hand in hand, we've lived and died,
For this great land, we've done us proud.)
I kept a home and raised a family,
I taught your children as if my own,
I painted pictures to show the beauty,
I wrote the stories to keep the flame.
(We've done us proud to come this far
Down through the years to where we are
Side by side, hand in hand, we've lived and died,
For this great land, we've done us proud.)
(We've done us proud) I worked the factory,
(To come this far) I worked the land,
(Two hundred years) I built the houses,
(To where we are) I baked the plan,
(Side by Side) I drive the highway,
(Hand in Hand) I right the wrong,
(We've lived and died) I reach for glory,
(For this great land) I sing the songs,
(We've done us proud).
(To come this far) To come this far,
(Two hundred years) Two hundred years,
(To where we are) To where we are,
(Side by side) Side by side.
(Hand in Hand) Hand in Hand,
Wagon trains were movin' back in 1835
Rollin' out across the overland
Movin' up the country through the timber and the bush
Opening up the state we know as Queensland.
The virgin bush resounded to the rumble of the gear
And voices of the men who moved them on,
Across the rugged mountains to the valleys far below
Wagon wheels were ever rollin' on.
Hey there keep those wagons rollin'
Into the north we're goin'
Make up your mind and come along, boy
Across the swollen rivers to the ranges far beyond
Wagon wheels were ever rollin' on
A-rollin' on, rollin' on.
{Instrumental]
Yes, the wagon trains were movin' back in 1835
Rollin' out across the overland,,
Movin' up the country through the timber and the bush
Opening up the state we know as Queensland.
They were pioneering fam'lies that made up the wagon
trains,
Branching out across the tablelands,
Opening up new homesteads where the wagon wheels had
been,
Far into the northern timberlands,
Hey there keep those wagons rollin'
Into the north we're goin'
Make up your mind and come along, boy
Across the swollen rivers to the ranges far beyond
Wagon wheels were ever rollin' on
A-rollin' on, yeah, rollin' on
Well I've walked a mile or two-oo in my lifetime
And I've travelled down some muddy tracks and dry
'Cause if I wanted to get where I was go-oin'
I knew I'd just have to walk that country mile
Now a country mile would be the longest distance
A man could ever travel when he's down
And you curse the never ending road before you
When you think you'll never make it into town
But you meet a friend or two along the highway
And you'll learn a lot you never knew before
And if the journey takes a lifetime
When you thought a year or two
Well you just don't give up easy anymore
And I've walked a mile or two-oo in my lifetime
And I've travelled down some muddy tracks and dry
'Cause if I wanted to get where I was go-oin'
I knew I'd just have to walk that country mile
Walkin' that long mile has shown me changes
Changes in the people and the land
But I'll bet the road to Marble Bar's no better
Than when I drove with trucks and caravans
And a country bloke is still the same old battler
No matter what the place he's workin' in
And although I've covered many miles
I still can't wait to see
What the next long country mile will bring
Well I've walked a mile or two-oo in my lifetime
And I've travelled down some muddy tracks and dry
'Cause if I wanted to get where I was go-oin'
I knew I'd just have to walk that country mile
Trumby was a ringer, a good one too at that,
He could rake and ride a twister, throw a rope and
fancy plait
He could count a line of saddles, a man lost in the
night
Trumby was a good boy but he couldn’t read or write.
Trumby was dependable, he never took to beer,
The boss admired him so much, one day made him overseer
It never went to Trumby's head, he didn't boast or
skite
Trumby was a good boy, but he couldn't read or write.
The drought was on the country the grass in short
supply
The tanks were getting lower and the water holes near
dry.
Cattle started dying and relief was not insight,
To estimate the losses Trumby couldn't read or write.
He rode around the station pulling cattle from the bog,
To save them being torn apart by eagles, crows and
dogs,
He saw a notice on a tree, it wasn't there last night,
Trumby tried to understand, but he couldn't read or
write.
On bended knee down in the mud, Trumby had a drink,
Swung the reigns and to his horse said "We go home I
think",
"Tell 'im boss about the sign, 'im read 'im good
alright"
"One day boss's missus teach 'im Trumby read and
write."
Well concern was felt for Trumby, he hadn't used his
bed,
Next day beside that muddy hole they found the ringer
dead.
And a piece of tin tied to a tree then caught the
boss's eye,
He read the words of 'Poison Here', and signed by
Dogger Bry.
Now the stock had never used that hole along that
stoney creek,
And Trumby's bag was empty it has frayed and sprung a
leak
The dogs were there in hundreds and the dogger in his
plight,
Told the boss he never knew poor Trumby couldn't read
or write.
Now Trumby was a ringer as solid as a post,
His skin was black but his heart was white and that’s
what mattered most,
Sometimes I think how sad it is in this world with all
its might,
That a man like Trumby met his death because he
couldn't read or write.
Couldn't read or write,
Said the old working bullock to the draught horses mate
The yokes, chains and swingbars have gone out of date.
Just look at the dust clouds and smoke trailing back
Where once we pulled wagons, there's trucks on the track.
Trucks on the track.
There's seldom a bush road that's not felt the trail,
Of some big prime mover that leave us for dead.
Stiff shouldered and foot-sore our chains never slack
And our ticket for freedom, those trucks on the track.
Those broad smiling faces of the gear pushing men,
Is the trade mark of truckies that I recall when.
The face of the teamster turned purple and black.
With rage but he'd welcome these trucks on the track.
The draught horse replied as he shook his old mane,
Those days I've no yearning to see them again.
Old whips made of green hide that stung ribs and back,
Hang idle because of those trucks on the track.
Trucks on the track.
Instrumental
So just let us nibble this young tender grass.
We're both pensioned off and are silver and brass.
Way back though the ages a man hunt his pack,
Now they haul half the World those trucks on the track.
So spray out the bull dust the trucks must get through.
There's someone out back mate 'pending on you.
A yard of prime cattle, or a wool clip to stack.
The kings of the road, those trucks on the track.
Trucks on the track.
So just let us nibble this young tender grass.
We're both pensioned off and are silver and brass.
Way back though the ages a man hunt his pack,
Now they haul half the World those trucks on the track.
So spray out the bull dust the trucks must get through.
There's someone out back mate 'pending on you.
A yard of prime cattle, or a wool clip to stack.
May the road rise up to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face
And the rains fall soft upon your tracks
And until, until we meet again
May God hold you safe in the palm of His hand.
May the hills come down to greet you
May the rocks give shelter in the storm
May the dust be soft beneath your feet
And the dark give rest before the dawn
And until, until we meet again
May God hold you safe in the palm of His hand.
In the palm of His hand
In the palm of his hand
In the palm of his hand
Safe in the palm of his hand.
{Instrumental]
May your life have many memories
May your death be sweet and full of peace
May your hope last an eternity
And may your joy carry on and never cease
And until, until we meet again
May God hold you safe in the palm of His hand,
And until, until we meet again
May God hold you safe in the palm of His hand
In the palm of His hand
In the palm of his hand
in the palm of his hand
Safe in the palm of his hand
In the palm of His hand
In the palm of his hand
in the palm of his hand
Oh, the floods have cut the main road off we can't get
into town,
And the squatters in an awful state he thinks his sheep
might drown,
We've oiled out tongs and cutters up so the rust can't
get our things,
And we’re gonna make the best of it for tonight the
woolshed swings.
Oh, the squatters’ daughters have snuck out to keep us
company,
And to show us all the disco steps for our corroboree,
Old Bart beats on a kero tin while Dan the presser
sings,
Oh they may not be a symphony but tonight the woolshed
swings.
The ringer’s got an old ram stag he's a waltzin’ round
the floor,
The old man tells the learners of the tallies he has
shore,
The rousie and the jackaroo are fightin’ in the wings,
And we've got our share of stubbies so tonight the
woolshed swings,
I'll say that.
[Guitar Solo]
Oh the rain is beating on the roof old Dan is spruiking
strong,
And the cook’s into the rum bottle and bursting into
song,
And no one gives a damn right now just what tomorrow
brings,
Oh there's bound to be some achin’ heads but tonight
the woolshed swings.
Now time is pressin’ onwards and the cook has just
passed out,
And the learners and the Jackaroo just shore the
roustabout,
The floor show came to a sudden halt when the
squatters’ wife marched in,
Now the girls are marchin’ out the door but still the
woolshed swings.
And the ringer’s got an old ram stag he's a waltzin’
round the floor,
The old man tells the learners of the tallies he has
shore,
The rousie and the jackaroo are fightin’ in the wings,
And we've got our share of stubbies but tonight the
woolshed swings.
[Guitar Solo]
Oh the ringer and the old ram stag have just fell down
the chute,
And the rousies sportin’ shiners and one of them’s a
beaut,
The squatter’s lookin’ for the fool who let the
woollies out,
Ah tomorrow there’ll be hell to pay but tonight it's
fun no doubt.
Yeah no one gives a damn right now just what tomorrow
brings,
The boss might even sack us all but tonight the
woolshed swings.
Old Mate! In the gusty old weather,
When our hopes and our troubles were new;
In the years spent in wearing out leather,
I found you unselfish and true –
I have gathered these verses together
For the sake of our friendship and you
You may think for a while and with reason
Though still with a kindly regret
That I've left it for late in the season
To prove I remember you yet,
But you'll never judge me by their treason
Who prop thy friends and forget.
[Instrumental]
I can still feel the spirit that bore us,
And often the old stars will shine
I remember the last spree in chorus
For the sake of that other Lang Syne,
When the tracks lay divided before us,
Your path through the future and mine;
Through the frost wind that cuts like whip lashes
Through the ever blind haze of the drought,
And in fancier times by the flashes,
Of light in the darkness of death,
I have followed the tent poles and ashes,
Of camps that we moved further out,
[Instrumental]
You will find in these pages a trace of,
That side of our past that was bright,
And recognise something the face of,
A friend who has dropped out of sight.
Oh I send them along in the place of,
The letters I promised to write, (yeah)
Old Mate! In the gusty old weather,
When our hopes and our troubles were new;
In the years spent in wearing out leather,
I found you unselfish and true –
I have gathered these verses together
We curse at the things that go wrong through the day
And vow that we'll snatch it, go far away
But when day is done and we're soon feeling well
And laughter rings out from Three Rivers Hotel
There's Wesley the barman and young Irish Joe
Serving the booze and collecting the dough
What a stir they would cause if they ever should tell
All the secrets they've learned in Three Rivers Hotel
On the night after payday there's fun and romance
It's a night for the fam'lies to sing and to dance
You can let down your hair and come out of your shell
And do your own thing in Three Rivers Hotel
And if you listen to the bosses when the night's gettin' late
On the progress they're makin' the best in the state
They'd be finished this line and this maint'nance as well
If they worked like they bragged in Three Rivers Hotel
And if you think you can drink we've got money to back
On stayers like Cass and old grader Jack
And they tell me old Coster gives everyone hell
When he gets on the booze in three Rivers Hotel
(Spoken)
Yeah, he's a whopper
When this job is finished we'll pack up and go
To another construction still chasing big dough
But wherever I wander my memory will dwell
Three hundred horses patiently stand,
Three hundred horses wearing Cummins brand
Harnessed up in the dawns early glow,
Three hundred horses are rearing to go
Three hundred horses all sleek and grand,
Three hundred horses are in my command
They’re right for water; they’re all well shod,
Just waitin’ for the foreman to give me the nod
Oh the load is heavy, the load is high,
The tarps are on for keeping it dry
there's over a hundred bales of wool,
And three hundred horses awaitin’ to pull
Three hundred horses patiently stand,
Three hundred horses wearing Cummins brand
Harnessed up in the dawns early glow,
Three hundred horses are rearing to go
Eastward the sun is raisin’ his head,
I've been up early and been well fed
The controls are in my two firm fists,
Three hundred horses are champing their bits
I'm out on the road out where I belong,
My mind is at ease, in my heart is a song
For a week long trip I've got all I need,
And three hundred horses gathering speed
Through the land of the free, the land that I love,
The land with the southern cross up above
Through the land of the sun and the wide open spaces,
Three hundred horses shoulder the traces
Hey three hundred horses patiently stand,
Three hundred horses wearing Cummins brand
From the tropical north to the southern snow,
Three hundred horses just see me go
Yeah three hundred horses patiently stand,
Three hundred horses wearing Cummins brand
Harnessed up in the dawns early glow,
Three hundred horses rearing to go
Three hundred horses patiently stand,
Three hundred horses wearing Cummins brand
Harnessed up in the dawns early glow,
Read yesterday in the weekly times people from the USA
Sayin’ they like the country and how they want to stay
Well you know that they’re welcome, I don’t want to
seem unkind
Just gotta say how I love this country of mine
But who owns the factories and who owns the farms
Who told us when and why to be in Vietnam
Don’t want to live in their shadow oh that would be a
crime
I don’t want them takin’ away this country of mine
This country of mine how long will it be
We’re in danger of losin’ our identity
This country of mine I hear talk that we’re free
But we’re not as free as we ought to be
Don’t need to be state 51 but seems we are anyhow
Right or wrong we follow, time to be ourselves is now
We’re losin’ our own heritage let’s lay it on the line
I don’t want them takin’ away this country of mine
This country of mine how long will it be
We’re in danger of losin’ our identity
This country of mine I hear talk that we’re free
But we’re not as free as we ought to be
I love a sunburnt country, a land of rollin’ plains
And if you’ve never known her, it’s hard to explain
It’s up to us the people, you’ve gotta take the time
And learn to say how much I love this country of mine
Don’t let them take away this country of mine
I sing about the things I see around me
The beauty of Australia that surrounds me
I sing you songs about this sunburnt land
Specially for the ones who understand
I sing about the people that I know
And a song about the places where I go
When I sing about the beauty that astounds me
Oh I'm just singing 'bout the things I see around me.
I sing about a ringer they call Trumby
How a man from Snowy River wheeled the brumby
I sing of towns a thousand miles from here
And the poor old pub that ran right out of beer.
I sing about the folk who battle drought,
In that hard dry country further out;
When I sing about their courage that astounds me
Oh I'm just singing 'bout the things I see around me.
[Instrumental]
I sing about the old retired drover
And the transport men whose trucking days are over.
I sing about folk of the golden mile
And the people who are living anthill style
Oh, I sing about the hardships and the strife
The battling men must suffer in this life.
When I tell you all the stories that astound you,
I'm just singing 'bout the things I see around me.
I sing about the things I see around me
The beauty of Australia that surrounds me
I sing you songs about this sunburnt land.
Specially for the ones who understand.
I sing about the people that I know,
And a song about the places where i go,
When I sing about the beauty that astounds me,
Oh I'm just singing 'bout the things I see around me.
They reckon we’re on a good wicket,
They reckon we’re makin’ a pile
They think that we’re making a fortune
and leading an easy lifestyle
They tell us that we’re in the big time,
Those big gun pen pushers from town
Oh they reckon we’re nothing but whingers old mate,
They’re experts at running us down
And they say that we’re paid too much money,
For shearing those cute little lambs
With wool oh so clean white and fluffy,
Get off him you brute of a man
They say if we don't act more kindly,
They’ll give the RSPCA a call
Well they’ve apparently never had a horn
Through the ribs or kicked up the Niagara falls
If they only knew half of the story,
The burrs and the lice and the flies
The bog eye is burnin’, your guts tight and churnin’
And your blinded by the sweat in your eyes
And you back feels like over twitched wire
One more bend and you're sure it’ll snap
But you just keep on goin’ while the overdrafts owin’
And the bank managers’ right on your back
You might ask me then why do I do it,
This job I'm caught moanin’ about
Well as a young reckless fool I wouldn't stay at school
Lobbed a job as a shed roustabout
Then travellin’ the outback I liked it,
To be payin’ my own way though life
Now my young years have fled and I find myself wed
Supporting a family and wife
Yeah I reckon I'm hobbled for life
So I ask myself is it all worth it
And I look down at my freckle face son
And I know I'll keep shearing though exhaustion is
nearing
Through the heat and those long summer runs
They reckon we’re on a good wicket,
They reckon we’re makin’ a pile
They think that we’re making a fortune and leading an
easy lifestyle
They tell us that we’re in the big time,
Those big gun pen pushers from town
Oh they reckon we’re nothing but whingers old mate,
They’re experts at running us down
They reckon we’re on a good wicket,
They reckon we’re makin’ a pile
They think that we’re making a fortune
I went back to the place where I worked as a lad
Just happened to be passing that way
I saw a few fellers there with a young horse
I walked up and just said G’Day
They said they’d heard of me but only by name
In stories passed down through the years
How I could break in a tough one and hang on a rough
I said don’t believe all you hear
The I took a stroll over to the old saddle shed
And there on a peg on the wall
I saw the same saddle I’d used years ago
More years than I care to recall
Oh I knew it was mine but I had to make sure
I lifted the flap up to see
Two initials I’d carved with an old pocket knife
Just a plain old P and a D
Had the same monkey straps that I plaited by hand
On a wet day with little to do
A worn saddle bag a quartpot and case
They were still hanging there too
That old saddle I said to the young feller in charge
He said I don’t think you’ll find its much good
But he looked at me straight said you can have it old
mate
I reckon that he understood
Yes take it old timer he said with a grin
Cause I reckon its yours anyway
I found your initials carved under the flap
I said you’d be back here one day
Now it hangs in office all polished and new
And the stirrup irons sparkle and shine
And if put to test would be good as the best
And I’m happy to say that its mine
Now I have a small grandson he’s only a boy
And if by chance he turns out a rover
The old Jimmy Woodser comes into the bar
Unwelcomed, unnoticed, unknown,
Too old and too odd to be drunk with, by far;
So he glides to the end where the lunch baskets are,
And they say that he tipples alone.
And they say that he tipples alone.
His frockcoat is green and the nap is no more,
And his hat is not quite at its best;
He wears the peaked collar our grandfathers wore,
The black-ribbon tie that was legal of yore,
And the coat buttoned over his breast.
And the coat buttoned over his breast.
But I dreamed, as he tasted his 'bitter' to-night,
And the lights in the bar-room grew dim,
That the shades of the friends of that other day’s
light,
And of girls that were bright in our grandfathers”
sight,
Lifted shadowy glasses to him.
Lifted shadowy glasses to him.
Yes the old Jimmy Woodser comes into the bar
Unwelcomed, unnoticed, unknown,
Too old and too odd to be drunk with, by far;
So he glides to the end where the lunch baskets are,
And they say that he tipples alone.
[Instrumental]
Then I opened the door, and the old man passed out,
With his short, shuffling step and bowed head;
And I sighed; for I felt, as I turned me about,
An odd sense of respect, born of whisky no doubt,
For a life that was fifty years dead.
For a life that was fifty years dead.
And I thought, there are times when our memory trends
Through the future, as ‘twere on its own,
That I, out-of-date ere my pilgrimage ends,
In a new-fashioned bar to dead loves and dead friends
Might drink, like the old man, alone.
There's a bustle in the city, there's excitement in the scrubs
There's a drone of rowdy voices in every Aussie pub
For a year we've all been waiting and we've put our money up
And we're out to back the winner of the famous Melbourne Cup
There's a pause in all production for our minds are on the race
And it's time that all our worries are forgotton for a space
And the women cease their talking, turn the radio well up
And with whippin' spur their waiting for the starting of the Cup
And the T.A.B.'s are crowded and the punters rush and push
They've held a sweep in every pub in city and in bush
Then a mighty cheering follows as the barrier goes up
And there's a thousand jockey's spurring every race their in the cup
The first Tuesday of November, every year it is the same
Every Aussie heart is beating with excitement of the game
For they bet on dream or fancy or the forms they've followed up
From a dollar up to thousands on the famous Melbourne Cup
There are millions who have never even sat upon a horse
Whether it be yarding cattle or racing on the course
And it's doubtful if they'd even know the way to saddle up
But they take a lot of beating when they're racing in the cup
Now the famous race is over for another hopeful year
There's a lot of smiling faces and there's others shedding tears
There's a battler made a fortune, and a wealthy man hard-up
But win or lose they're waiting now for next year's Melbourne Cup
Oh that's right
There's a bustle in the city, there's excitement in the scrubs
There's a drone of rowdy voices in every Aussie pub
And the battler makes a fortune, and a wealthy man hard-up
It was the man from Ironbark who struck the Sydney
town,
He wandered over street and park, he wandered up and
down.
He loitered here he loitered there, till he was like to
drop,
Until at last in sheer despair he sought a barber's
shop.
"Ere! shave my beard and whiskers off, I'll be a man of
mark,
I'll go and do the Sydney toff up home in Ironbark."
The barber man was small and flash, as barbers mostly
are,
He wore a strike-your-fancy sash he smoked a huge
cigar;
He was a humorist of note and keen at repartee,
He laid the odds and kept a "tote", whatever that may
And when he saw our friend arrive, he whispered,
"Here's a lark!
Just watch me catch him all alive, this man from
Ironbark."
There were some gilded youths that sat along the
barber's wall.
Their eyes were dull, their heads were flat, they had
no brains at all;
To them the barber passed a wink his dexter eyelid
shut,
"I'll make this bloomin' yokel think his bloomin'
throat is cut."
And as he soaped and rubbed it in he made a rude
remark:
"I s'pose the flats is pretty green up there in
Ironbark."
A grunt was all reply he got; he shaved the bushman's
chin,
Then made the water boiling hot and dipped the razor
He raised his hand, his brow was black, he paused
awhile to gloat,
Then slashed the red-hot razor-back across his victim's
throat;
Upon the newly-shaven skin it made a livid mark,
No doubt it fairly took him in, the man from Ironbark.
He fetched a wild up-country yell might wake the dead
to hear,
And though his throat, he knew full well, was cut from
ear to ear,
He struggled gamely to his feet, and faced the
murd'rous foe:
"You've done for me! you dog, I'm beat! one hit before
I go!
I only wish I had a knife, you blessed murdering shark!
But you'll remember all your life the man from
Ironbark."
He lifted up his hairy paw, with one tremendous clout
He landed on the barber's jaw, and knocked the barber
out.
He set to work with tooth and nail, he made the place a
wreck;
He grabbed the nearest gilded youth, and tried to break
his neck.
And all the while his throat he held to save his vital
spark,
And "Murder! Bloody murder!" yelled the man from
Ironbark.
A peeler man who heard the din came in to see the show;
He tried to run the bushman in, but he refused to go.
And when at last the barber spoke, and said "'Twas all
in fun'
Twas just a little harmless joke, a trifle overdone."
"A joke!" he said, "By hell, that's fine; a lively sort
of lark;
I'd like to catch that murdering swine some night in
Ironbark."
And now while round the shearing floor the list'ning
shearers gape,
He tells the story o'er and o'er, and brags of his
escape.
"Them barber chaps what keeps a tote, by hell, I've had
enough,
One tried to cut my bloomin' throat, but thank the Lord
it's tough."
And whether he's believed or no, there's one thing to
remark,
That flowing beards are all the go way up in Ironbark.
When you wake up in the morning of the night before
And there's someone knocking’ on your front door
And you haven't got a drink and you're sick to the core
You've got what they call a hangover
Well your head is splitting and your stomachs in pain
And you tremble when you hear that knock again
And you're certain that the knocker is the law that's
plain
Oh you think the worst with a hangover
Well you try to think back on the night before
You've got a vague recollection but you're not too sure
You were out with a woman it's her husband for sure
It's a dreadful thing a hangover
Oh you drove home drunk but you think you were right
But you seem to recall going through red lights
It's the law at the door and he's got you in his sights
It all looks bad with a hangover
Oh you look into the mirror and you've got a black eye
And there's blood on your shirt from the other guy
Must be him at the door I wish I could die
Would be better than this hangover
Well you pluck up courage and you open up the door
Expecting a punch or a bluey from the law
Or a jealous husband with a gun in his paw
At least it would end this hangover
Well strike me pink you near drop dead
Why it's Don and Bert and Stan and Ned
With a carton of coldies for your aching head
Medicine for a hangover
Well you start to recover and get a couple down
You think things over oh weren’t you a clown
To worry if the law or a husband came round
Ohhh it must have been a bad hangover
So you all head off to the local once more
And you're a little self conscious as you walk through
the door
But at closing time you're as bad as before
And you're in for another hangover
Oh show me the way to go home cause you're in for
A strapping young stockman lay dying
His saddle supporting his head
All around him his comrades were standing
As he raised on his pillow and said
Wrap me up with my stockwhip and blanket
And bury me deep down below
Where the dingoes and crows can't molest me
In the shade where the coolibahs grow
Then cut down a couple of saplings
Place one at my head and my toe
Carve on them stockwhip and saddle
Just to show there's a stockman below
Wrap me up with my stockwhip and blanket
And bury me deep down below
Where the dingoes and crows can't molest me
In the shade where the coolibahs grow
Give one guy my saddle and blanket,
Give Billy my bullets of lead
These two dark friends of my childhood
May remember a stockman’s last bed.
Wrap me up with my stockwhip and blanket
And bury me deep down below
Where the dingoes and crows can't molest me
In the shade where the coolibahs grow
There's tea in the battered old billy
Place the pannikins out in a row
And we'll drink to the next merry meeting
In the place where all good fellows go
Wrap me up with my stockwhip and blanket
And bury me deep down below
Where the dingoes and crows can't molest me
In the shade where the coolibahs grow
I was born way out in a blazin’ drought on a cattle
drovin’ trip
I was raised on beef and I cut my teeth on the handle
of a whip
Oh I was never named I was never tamed I'm as wild as a
brumby mare
The desert land I roam the desert land’s my home
and I'm known as the desert lair
I'm long and lean from the desert land
I was taught to track by a Myall black in the channel
country wild
I could hold the lead of a wild stampede when I should
been a child
Oh I was never named I was never tamed, I'm as rough as
prickly pear
The desert land I roam the desert land’s my home
and I'm known as the desert lair
I'm long and lean from the desert land
[Guitar solo]
Now I never bathe and I never shave I'm as wild as the
land that I roam
I just don't fit in with my civilized kin I belong in
my desert home
Oh I was never named I was never tamed and I never
grieve or care
The desert land I roam the desert land’s my home
and I'm known as the desert lair
I'm long and lean from the desert land
'Tis a legend of the bushmen from the days of
Cunningham,
When he opened up the country and the early squatters
came.
"Tis the old tale of a fortune missed by men who did
seek,
And, perhaps, you haven’t heard it, The Brass Well on
Myall Creek.
They were north of running rivers, they were south of
Queensland rains,
And a blazing drought was scorching every grass-blade
from the plains;
So the stockmen drove the cattle to the range where
there was grass,
And a couple sunk a well and found what they believed
was brass.
"Here’s some bloomin’ brass!" they muttered when they
found it in the clay,
And they thought no more about it and in time they went
away;
But they heard of gold, and saw it, somewhere down by
Inverell,
And they felt and weighed it, crying: "Hell! we found
it in the well!"
[Instrumental]
And they worked about the station and at times they
took the track,
Always meaning to save money, always meaning to go
back,
Always meanin, like the bushmen, who go drifting round
like wrecks,
And they’d get half way to Myall, strike a pub and blow
their cheques.
Then they told two more about it and those other two
grew old,
And they never found the brass well and they never
found the gold.
For the scrub grows dense and quickly and, though many
went to seek,
No one ever struck the lost track to the Well on Myall
Creek.
And the story is forgotten and I’m sitting here, alas!
With a woeful load of trouble and a woeful lack of
brass;
But I dream at times that I might find what many went
to seek,
That my luck might lead my footsteps to the Well on
Myall Creek.
'Tis a legend of the bushmen from the days of
Cunningham,
When he opened up the country and the early squatters
came.
'Tis the old tale of a fortune missed by men who did
seek,
And, perhaps, you haven’t heard it, The Brass Well on
Myall Creek.
And, perhaps, you haven’t heard it, The Brass Well on
An old man walks to the sliprails
His dear wife by his side
They gaze across the hills of home
Through the rest though even tide
And remember their lives together
In their dear old home sweet home
When life was joy with their own two boys
Before they went to roam.
But the march of time brings sorrow
And the clouds of war bang time
The first son left with the A.I.F.
With the boys to do or die.
He was killed on the sands of Egypt
'Neath the blazin' desert sun
There's a cross to tell how he fought and fell
Fighting for his native land.
When the clouds of war came nearer
And we knew we must prevail
Their second son took up his gun
Along the Kakoda trail.
Now he's one of the fallen heroes
Who helped turn the foe around
And fought him there along the track
From this great free southern land.
When the rainbow of peace comes shinin'
Like a promise of hope on high
Their boys are gone but their faith is strong
For the promised home on high.
When their pathway of life they travelled
And the great one calls to go
They'll meet their boys and share the joys
In a neat little town they call Belfast
Apprentice to trade I was bound
And many an hour of sweet happiness
Have I spent in that neat little town.
I took a stroll down Broadway
Meaning not long for to stay
When who should I meet but a pretty fair maid
Coming along the pathway.
Her eyes they shone like diamonds
I thought her the pride of the land
Her hair, it hung down in long tresses,
Tied up with the black velvet band.
I took a stroll with this pretty fair maid
And a gentleman passing us by
I could see that she meant a doing of him
By the look in her lovely black eyes.
His watch she took from his pocket
And slyly placed it in my hand.
I was taken in charge by a copper,
Bad luck from the black velvet band.
Her eyes they shone like diamonds
I thought her the pride of the land
Her hair, it hung down in long tresses,
Tied up with the black velvet band.
Before the Lord Mayor I was taken.
"Your case, Sir, I plainly can see
And if I'm not greatly mistaken
You're bound far over the sea"
It's over the dark and blue ocean
Far away to Van Diemens Land
Far away from my friends and relations
Betrayed by the black velvet band.
Her eyes they shone like diamonds
I thought her the pride of the land
Her hair, it hung down in long tresses,
Way out in heartbreak corner in Australia’s far outback
The desert broods its secrets along the Birdsville
track
A family came and perished oh what a tragic end
That fierce relentless desert has claimed so many men
I’ve learned how thirst can craze the mind in cruel
heat outback
And I grieve for that poor family along the Birdsville
track
The great white ball of fire rode o’er the cloudless
dome
And scorched all living creatures upon the sand and
stone
Way out in heartbreak corner they went and ne’er came
back
And another story’s buried there along the Birdsville
track
[Instrumental]
Then twilight fell with calmness as silent as a tomb
And phantom streams reflected the rising of the moon
The days and nights that followed brought panic and
despair
And blinding sandstorms raged as though to drown a
mother’s prayer
Then demons of the desert came to claim their tortured
minds
And searching bushmen came too late and read the tragic
signs
And now beside a coolabah where desert grasses wave
The brumby stallion leads his mob to skirt the new made
graves
Way out in heartbreak corner they went and ne’er came
back
May twilight bring them peace at night along the
Birdsville track
[Instrumental]
The dingoes howl so dismally the lonely curlews cry
As though in deepest mourning for those poor souls who
died
Way out in heartbreak corner in Australia’s far outback
The desert broods its secrets along the Birdsville
track
Oh the desert broods its secrets along the Birdsville
They had my future wrapped up in a parcel
And no one even thought of asking me
The day I turned fifteen I caught the mail train
To find what else might be in life for me
I rode on trucks and trains and lived on nothin'
Served me right for wanting to be free
Ah well that's the way society looked at it
But it didn't seem to be that way to me
And the biggest disappointment in the family was me
The only twisted branch upon our good old family tree
I just couldn't be the person they expected me to be
And the biggest disappointment in the world wa-as me
I lot more dinner times than there were dinners
I learned a lot that hurt me at the time
Then this quiet country boy went home a different man
With a memory of distance on my mind
But I always spoke too loud and laughed too often
Maybe drank to many glasses down
And perhaps my clothes were older than I realised
A relief to all concerned when I left town
And the biggest disappointment in the family was me
The only twisted branch upon our good old family tree
I just couldn't be the person they expected me to be
And the biggest disappointment in the world wa-as me
And the biggest disappointment in the family was me
The only twisted branch upon our good old family tree
I just couldn't be the person they expected me to be
I come ridin’ down the Barwon with my saddle and my
swag
Strapped across the bony framework of a long backed
chestnut nag
I was headin’ for a station on the stockroute west of
Bourke
To tangle with an outlaw horse well known in campfire
talk
When I rode down to the stockyard where they said I’d
find the boss
Standing just inside I saw the big roan outlaw horse
He was just the kind of horseflesh a ringer dreams
about
Game eye and good strong shoulders and front legs well
spaced out
I said now boss is that the horse the ringers rave
about
I’ve heard of him at Camooweal and even further out
Yes he’s been tried by desert men and riders from the
gulf
He said I’d give my station to the man that calls his
bluff
And as I strapped the bridle on that proud and shapely
head
I pictured me as owner of his big merino spread
I threw my Snyder poley on and tightened up the girth
And as I stepped astride him the big horse left this
earth
He left the ground in one tight ball as solid as a
stone
And all that I could see around was one big blur of
roan
I hit him with my goosenecks around the shoulder points
He twisted like a reptile that had a million joints
He dropped his shoulders way down low and chopped out
to the right
He started striking at the bit each time the spurs did
bite
I thought I felt him weaken so I voiced a victory yell
What happened then I only know for those who saw it
tell
So I rode way from the station with my saddle and my
swag
Strapped across the bony framework of the same old
chestnut nag
And just as I was leaving he whinnied loud and shrill
And even after all these years I fancy I hear him still
They still tell yarns about him around the campfire
blaze
Of the noted riders that he’s thrown so many different
ways
And while I’m taking night watch on a cattle camp alone
I try to figure how I lost the battle with the roan.
They called him the bloke with the banjo ‘cause they’d
never seen Spanish guitar
When he stood with his hat on the footpath this busker
who would be a star
And the streetlights shone down as a spotlight and
gleamed from the guitar that he played
As the depressions poor victims passed by him he sang
for the coins which were paid
He came as a child through depression a swagman all
cheeky and game
To make a mass fortune and spend it then do it all over
again
The first to record our own folk songs to be played on
the old gramophone
From cities and towns through the outback and in cosy
old lantern lit homes
He rode and he sang and he acted for stage and the
radio shows
Then took it all with him and travelled in his great
tented rodeo show
He outsold the greats of his heyday in his awesome
showbusiness ascent
Great masses had all gone at showtime to pack out the
Tex Morton tent
With roughriders riding for glory whip cracking rope
spinning and clowns
Then in the sawdust roped in arena stood the man in
gabardine brown
And the noisy crowd wildly applauding would then sit
silent and mute
They were awed by his skill with the rifle for I tell
you Tex Morton could shoot
Now I give you a piece of the legend of the man with
the Spanish guitar
Who came from the street to the spotlight Australia’s
first superstar
In the history of the great showmen whoever performed
on the stage
Oh you’d have to give credits to Morton as you write
his name down on the page
Oh you’d have to give credits to Morton as you write
Sundown another town, just like the last one
Man said you’re still ahead, caught yourself a fast one
No escape from your fate by putting’ miles behind you
Some place there’s no face and nothin’ to remind you
But yesterday won’t go away and you can’t find tomorrow
Sometimes you wonder wont it ever come again
Seems the world is standin’ still,
your feet are on the old treadmill
And, Sundown is just, another town
So here you are, another bar, in just another city
Thick smoke, tired jokes, beginnings of self pity
And look around and get the sound of music loud and
laughter
A new song moves you on, forever traveling faster
But yesterday won’t go away and you can’t find tomorrow
Sometimes you wonder wont it ever come again
Seems the world is standin’ still,
your feet are on the old treadmill
And, Sundown is just, another town
Every shadow is a sentence, every corner is a page
Of a chapter in your life you tried to close
Every morning in the mirror you expect to see your face
Not a memory time and distance car to race.
But yesterday won’t go away and you can’t find tomorrow
Sometimes you wonder wont it ever come again
Seems the world is standin’ still,
your feet are on the old treadmill
And, Sundown is just, another town
And, Sundown is just, another town
Just a saddle for my pillow and a blanket for my bed
A swagwrap underneath me and place to rest my head
With the bright stars up above me and the night sounds
all around
Hear the tinkle of the horse bells before they’re
bedded down
Life then was pretty simple and my needs were very few
Just a good horse underneath me and the friends that I
once knew
Though my clothes were worn and dusty and my boots down
at the heel
I was always proud of what I was and it's still the way
I feel
Down a stock route in the cold and rain, the heat, the
dust and sand
Those old drovers don't exist no more and it's hard to
understand
Hear the heavy roar of diesels of the road trains where
we rode
there's no stock route where it used to be just a
winding blacktop road
[Guitar Solo]
[Spoken]
The stories those old timers told in the campfires
eerie glow
Throwing shadows on their faces as they spoke in tones
so low
Hear the howling of the dingoes and smell the gidgee
after rain
Oh I'd give a lot to see and hear those old bush sounds
again
[Sung]
But I've left it all behind me like a lot have done
before
Our way of life’s not good enough in this age of
needing more
But the trusting hand of friendship in the old days was
so real
I was always proud of what I was and it's still the way
I feel yeah
Life then was pretty simple and my needs were very few
Just a good horse underneath me and the friends that I
once knew
Though my clothes were worn and dusty and my boots down
at the heel
I was always proud of what I was and it's still the way
Well now you see that feller in the Louieville
He's got a mighty fine opinion of his drivin’ skills
Give him half a chance and he’ll bash your ear
Tell you how good he is!!
He can drive all night and he can drive day
And still be on the ball or so he’ll say
But I can share a little yarn about his claim to fame
He’d rather not talk about.
It was on the Newell highway in July last year
Somewhere after midnight it was cold but clear
I see this big rig parked in the middle of the road
Lit up like a Christmas tree!!
Well you can well imagine I expected the worst
So I thought I'd take a look in the cabin first
Then I see you know who by the side of the road
Standin’ there starin’ at the stars and yellin’
“Beam me up Scotty im’a ready to ride
To take my place at the helm of the Enterprise
And boldly go through those starry skies
Hey I've proved my worth down here on earth
I'm a star trucker, star trucker
And it's time for me to go interplanetary
I'm a star, star trucker “
[Guitar Solo]
I gotta tell you boys it took me by surprise
To see the crazy look in that poor blokes eyes
And when he sees me comin’ he starts to scream
“Klingons off the starboard bow”
Then I have this flash on how to make it work
I said “Son, it's not the Klingons, it's Captain Kirk”
He says “Sorry Captain it's been a hell of a day”
And I just, can't, push, it any harder.
So beam me up Scotty im’a ready to ride,
To take my place at the helm of the Enterprise,
And boldly go through those starry skies
Hey I've proved my worth down here on earth
I'm a star trucker, star trucker,
And it's time for me to go interplanetary,
I'm a star, star trucker
Now Billy was a blacksmith in the year of forty two
He went right out of business there was no horses to
shoe
He packed his few belongings when the leaves began to
fall
He was going up to Queensland just to anyplace at all
He had a horse and sulky and an old blue heeler dog
They headed ever northward with a steady old jig jog
They camped beside the river ‘neath the willows green
and tall
As they headed up to Queensland just to anyplace at all
One day as they were driving the hours dragged along
He joined the friendly bush birds in their mountain
laughing song
He overtook a stranger who had his swag and all
And he was tramping up to Queensland just to anyplace
at all
Now Billy said to the stranger would you like to take a
ride
You can hop up in the sulky if it won’t hurt yer pride
The stranger thanked him kindly and climbed into the
seat
Where they talked about their livelihood and the
fellers that you meet
[Guitar Solo]
The stranger said I’m Jimmy and I was a shearer’s mate
Oh but the big contractors they say I’m out of date
I kind of got discouraged so I rolled my swag and all
And I’m I headin’ up to Queensland just to anyplace at
The two became good cobbers as the weeks they rolled
around
They went over the border and through the darling downs
They camped beside the river of a town I can’t recall
But it was somewhere up in Queensland just to anyplace
at all
Next morning they were waken with horses all around
They saw the same old hitching rails in this old
outback town
Then Billy said to Jimmy in his old familiar drawl
I think we’ll settle down here good as any place at all
They soon rented a stable and a shed without a floor
Jimmy fixed a sign up and he nailed it on the door
It read Blacksmith and shoein’ done no job too big or
small
And it was somewhere up in Queensland at anyplace at
They had a boomin’ business and stayed that way for
years
Billy did the shoein’ while jimmy dressed the shears
And of you chance to meet them this story they’ll
recall
When they headed up to Queensland just to anyplace at
When they headed up to Queensland just to anyplace at
When they headed up to Queensland just to anyplace at
[Spoken]
This story was told to me by a mate
and he was still shakin’ after 20 years
Well that’s what he told me anyway.
I was drivin’ through the Pilliga gettin’ tired of the
road
Pulled over for a breather stretch my legs and check
the load
It was gettin’ close to sundown been away near on a
week
When I pulled into this campsite on the banks of Toolie
creek
Well I walked around the trailer the bush was pretty
still
Checkin’ ropes and kickin’ tyres the night air had a
chill
I was climbin’ in the cabin when I thought I heard a
moan
And I got this sudden feeling that I wasn’t on my own
Oh there’s somethin’ in the Pilliga I’ve heard old
timers say
There’s some won’t even camp there some never go that
And if you listen to their stories they’ll make yer
skin just crawl
Some may offer their opinion and some never talk at all
Well I put it down to maybe the wind blowin’ in the
trees
Completely disregarding shaky feelings in my knees
I was climbin’ in the camper 40 winks was all I’d take
When I felt the cabin shakin’ I was really wide awake
Oh I grabbed the tyre lever out from underneath the
seat
Hit the lights and threw some roman sandals on my feet
I was creepin’ round the bullbar out roared this awful
sound
And my hair was standin’ straight up I was frozen to
the ground
Hey there’s somethin’ in the Pilliga I’ve heard old
timers say
There’s some won’t even camp there some never go that
And if you listen to their stories they’ll make yer
skin just crawl
Some may offer their opinion and some never talk at all
Then this thing came chargin’ for me it was all of 10
feet high
With hair all covered over murder in its devils eyes
And I must have started screamin’ like a banshee in
full flight
For it roared and grunted somethin’ and then vanished
in the night
When finally I woke up I was lyin’ on the ground
In an eerie kind of stillness nothin’ moved or made a
sound
Both my eyes were big as saucers still seein’ in my
mind
That primeval apparition red eyes burning into mine
Oh there’s somethin’ in the Pilliga I’ve it rant and
roar
And my nerves were shot to pieces rememberin’ what I
It was big and it was hairy its perfume really reeked
Yeah there’s somethin’ in the Pilliga mate on the banks
of Toolie creek
Let it stay there in the Pilliga on the banks of Toolie
Where are the mates I used to have?
I wonder where they are?
Some still wander and some made good
And others travelled far.
Some have gathered their gear and gone
To a better land or worse;
Their load was heavy, the passing years
Is the weight that oldsters curse.
When we were young and the world was wide
And the longest day not hard,
We would joke our way from dawn to dark,
Through the mob in the branding yard.
One I remember when I was there,
Who helped me in early years,
When I was the butt of the stockrail jokes,
He taught me to take the jeers.
In life he didn't amount to much,
He came from further out.
He was only a lanky coloured lad,
A station rouseabout.
Oh, I've thanked him often in after life,
For the things he taught me then,
He guided my youth through the stockman's life
In the hard, tough world of men.
[Instrumental]
Although he didn't amount to much,
All that he had, he gave.
He was white enough and man enough
To rest in a soldier's grave.
Forgotten by most of the ones he knew
And those of his tribal tree;
The world forgetting, the world forgot
Except by mates like me.
So long, old mate from early days
Wherever you may be.
May the grass be green and the water good,
From care may your days be free.
I've travelled a span of the road of life
And I've learned to understand,
Through mate-ship the way it was meant to be,
Slow down, slow down,
Take your time dear brother
Why must we all be frantic bound.
There's happiness around us
For everyone to share
So take your time dear brother
Slow down.
Why must it be the trend
To hurry towards the end
'Cause in the end you always seem to find,
That yonder hills are burned
And then you've sadly learned
The green hills of happiness
The ones you left behind.
[Instrumental]
Slow down, slow down
Take your time dear brother
Why must your life be so unreal.
Your heart is in dispair,
You're crowded everywhere,
In your dreary world of concrete and steel.
Let's cleanse our hearts of hate
Before it is too late,
And try to spread some happiness around
There's joy in helping others
If you should find them down
So let us all be brothers
I'm a singer from down under and it isn't any wonder
That I like a can or two of tooheys old
I've sung my way about, from the bush to the opera
house
And tomorrow’s just another town to show
Bush ballads are my life oh I sing ’em all the time
Stories of our people and our land
Spent a lot of time at home, cause I was country born
And it's helped me such a lot to understand
Hey I'm a singer from down under on the move
Oh I like the life I'm livin’ given under skies of blue
May the Southern Cross in freedom ever shine
My song is for Australia every time
[Instrumental]
I was never really lazy, but the neighbours thought me
crazy
Cause I dreamed about a life of travellin’ round
A dream that made me move, seemed the natural thing to
So at twenty one I finally left the land
Some said ‘twas rather risky but I married in the
fifties
And in 1954 we hit the road
We went out for a 3 month trial, but that cagin’
country mile
Has forever since just kept us on the go
Hey I'm a singer from down under on the move
Oh I like the life I'm livin’ given under skies of blue
May the Southern Cross in freedom ever shine
My song is for Australia every time, my friends
It won't happen again at the pub way out back
Since they air freight the beer and are done with the track
They've gone all real modern as you soon will hear
Now it's all ancient history, the pub with no beer
The drover we knew rests his horse now for keeps
And he rides 'round the town in the latest of jeeps
There's the old swaggy now, he's a different man too
With a joke he'll say don't step on my blue suede shoes
The pub has no verandah, it's a new smart drive in
Where they serve you with cocktails, liqueurs and gin
There's no dog in the lane and there's no hitching post
The boss is no barman he's known as mine host
Older Billy the blacksmith, shot home like a gun
And rebuilt the old place with money he'd won
Now he'll service your car with the greatest of care
Since there's no need for horses on the plains way out there
When it's all said and done there was no need to curse
Although things were bad they might have been worse
The locals so proud all make this their boast
More money rolls in than along the Gold Coast
So it's lonesome no more at the new Hotel Grande
Where there's laughter and song plus a rock and roll band
But the old timers smile through the laughter and cheer
Oh the radio tells me it’s rainin’
But that I can see for myself,
And they tell me a cyclone is comin’,
Oh I surely could do with some help,
This little old shovel I’m holdin’
Looks puny beside this big Mack,
She’s down to the diff and still goin’
And there’s only more mud up the track.
Oh I’ve revved and I’ve rocked and reversed it,
I’ve dug at the mud on the wheels,
I’ve kicked and I’ve swore and I’ve cursed it,
And to the good Lord I’ve appealed,
But the line up to heaven aint open,
I’ve a feeling I’m not gettin’ through,
I’ll just have to lighten the load,
One carton of stubbies should do.
[Instrumental]
Oh I wonder if ever they’d miss it,
One carton from all of those tons,
But I can bet you they’ll be askin’ "where is it?"
And lickin’ their dry dusty tongues,
I can picture those miners all dyin’
Of thirst in that drought stricken town,
While here in the mud I’ve been tryin’,
Strivin’ to put the booze down.
And in each of these stubbies I’ve emptied,
I insert a small note of distress,
And cast it adrift in the gully,
An SOS out of the west,
How many days have I languished
Here in this swamp called a road,
While in my despair and my anguish
I’ve been workin’ at lightening the load.
[Instrumental]
Perhaps some old fisherman casting
His line on the barrier reef,
Will see all these stubbies go past him,
And come sailin’ up to my relief,
And wont we all have such a booze up,
The best ever seen on this road,
But I doubt they ever will choose us
To carry their next flamin’ load.
So good health to the sandflies and skeeters,
Good luck to that sullen old frog.
Oh I’m damned if this rain’s gonna beat us,
Thank hell for this truck load of grog,
Oh send her down Hughie you beauty,
You got the right knack of doin’ it now,
Oh my sorrows are drowned well and truly,
And there’s plenty more booze to put down.
Ahh it’s a lonesome a what am I doin’ in this mud,
My daddy was a timber cutter,
That's how how he earned his bread and butter
Home was nothin' but a weatherbeaten timber shack
The tin roof leaked a little and the chimney leaned a
But it kept out the snow and the rain up at Sassafras
My mother was a great big lady
With a heart just as big as a tree
Daddy Jack cut down the forest by the timber track
But she taught us all our lessons
Taught us how to read and write
And she'd tuck us into bed every night up at Sassafras
Saturday night was the best time of all
We'd all get together and have us a ball
We'd pick a little music
Drink a lot of homemade wine
Us kids could hardly wait for summer,
So we could go swimmin' in the river,
Divin' in the water off the bridge up by Thompson's
shack
Well my Mum used to say I was lazy
Opposite of just plain crazy
And it was good to be alive and livin' up at Sassafras
[Instrumental]
Saturday night was the best time of all,
We'd all get together and have us a ball
We'd pick a little music
Drink a lot of homemade wine
Us kids could hardly wait for summer,
So we could go swimmin' in the river,
Divin' in the water off the bridge up by Thompson's
shack
Well now, my Mum used to say I was lazy
Opposite of just plain crazy
And it was good to be alive and livin' up at Sassafras
And it was good to be alive and livin' up at Sassafras
Through the grey frosty dawn
Every cold winter's morn
Rode this lad full of life and joy,
Every day just the same,
Down the roadway he came,
He was known as their own saddle boy.
In his youth, free from strife
He was called from this life,
From the sorrows of life's highway.
He was needed above
At the homestead of love,
For the last final roundup some day.
Now the sad willows wave
O'er the cold silent grave,
Where the tall grasses bend and bow,
And the jackass's laugh,
Is the only epitah
O'er the grave of this brave saddle boy.
At the school house on the rise,
Teacher always watched the skies
For the storm clouds that rose like foam
You've a long way he said
So you better go ahead
Saddle up saddle boy ride for home.
He had ten miles to ride
Through the dark countryside
As the storm all around raged on
Just one creek left to cross
Struck by driftwood boy and horse
Swept away by the mad raging foam
And the lightning overhead
Showed the last sandy bed
Where the boy and the pony lay
And old boundary rider Troy
Was the one who found the boy
And who took the saddening message home next day.
Now the old people say
Of the long nights in May
When the wind through the valley roam,
Pounding hoof beats resound,
Through the tall timber land
You can sing your songs of Spinifex and a horse like
Ginger Meggs
An outlaw such as Curio, the meanest on four legs
But when the flags are flyin' at a big time rodeo
It's the boys who ride the circuit who really make the
show.
So form up your committee and round up all your nags
Bring in the bulls and wild eyed steers an' cut out all
the strags
Shut out the chutes and holding pens for the western
folk all know
It's the boys who ride and risk their necks who really
make the show.
He's a knight in leather armour, and he sits on a
leather throne
He's a bushman and a battler, and a breed all of his
So when the gates fly open and he makes out of the
chute,
You can dip your hats and raise your voice he's worthy
of salute.
[Yodels]
They're dynamite in high heeled boots, they're men
who've learned their trade
In the toughest school of the big outback, the school
where men are made
Roughriders and their ropemen and they bulldog for a
thrill
They take their chance and bite the dust and never mind
the spill.
Broken bones won't keep them home, they're not that way
inclined
A reckless code along the road out for a darn good
time,
They crawl a mile and drag their swags to give the
crowd a show,
And help a mate along the track and fear they never
show.
He's a knight in leather armour, and he sits on a
leather throne
He's a bushman and a battler, and a breed all of his
So when the gates fly open and he makes out of the
chute,
You can dip your hats and raise your voice he's worthy
of salute
Let me tell you an old time story
Of a place known to you and me,
Away down in Red River Valley
There’s a flower blooming just for me.
Because her lips are as sweet as honey,
And her eyes blue as the sea,
She’s the rose of Red River Valley,
Red River Valley Rose for me.
[spoken]
I’ll tell that story now.
[Instrumental]
Many lovers have tried to woo her,
But it was not to be,
She’s the Rose of Red River Valley,
And she’s saving all her love for me.
Because her lips are as sweet as honey,
And her eyes blue as the sea,
She’s the rose of Red River Valley,
Red River Valley Rose for me.
[spoken]
Oh, let’s all ride out there!
[Instrumental]
Now I told you my old time story,
And you know what I’m going to do,
Yes, go back to Red River Valley,
And be contented for my whole life through.
Because her lips are as sweet as honey,
And her eyes blue as the sea,
She’s the rose of Red River Valley,
Red River Valley Rose for me.
Another day is dawning, out on the lonely plain,
Here am I a'drovin' on the big beef train,
There's drivers there before me, some behind me too,
Just like me I know they've got the road train blues.
You drive all night and listen to the engine groan,
With lots of time to think about the folks back home,
I've always been a wanderer, got these ramblin' shoes,
Guess that I was born to know the road train blues.
I better stop and get out, careful check to make,
I hope there's nothing going or about to break,
No time to boil a billie, got no time to lose,
Gotta keep a rollin' with my road train blues.
You drive all night and listen to the engine groan,
With lots of time to think about the folks back home,
I've always been a wanderer, got these ramblin' shoes,
Guess that I was born to know the road train blues.
I'll bet in every wagon, there's a beast that's down,
You've got to get him on his feet and turned around,
You sweat and curse and struggle, get knocked about and bruised,
Your temper's getting shorter with the road train blues,
You drive all night and listen to the engine groan,
With lots of time to think about the folks back home,
I've always been a wanderer, got these ramblin' shoes,
Guess that I was born to know the road train blues.
Your eyes are nearly blinded by the red bulldust
I hope there's nothing going or about to bust,
Tourist buses passing, on a pleasure cruise,
They wave and seem to mock your rollin' road train blues.
You drive all night and listen to the engine groan,
With lots of time to think about the folks back home,
I've always been a wanderer, got these ramblin' shoes,
Guess that I was born to know the road train blues.
I'm a ringer from the top end where ya gotta know your
And what you're doin' each day on 2 million acres you
Ya have to earn your pay if ya wanna take it on
There's one thing that shouldn't be forgotten
Nobody else can do the job like a ringer from the top
end.
Out on the fence line swallowing dust, blood on my
hands from the barb
Hoping that rogue bull won't see the hole before they
get him in the yard.
But I get a funny feeling in the middle of my back
Sure enough he's coming like a train down the track
That's when nobody else moves faster than the ringer
from the top end
[Instrumental]
I'm a ringer from the top end
Where ya gotta muster 3 thousand head in a day
Move 'em to the yards and water them at end of day
It's not the sort of job you'd take if you're looking
for a soft one
But ya take a kinda pride in saying, "I'm a ringer from
the top end."
Well I roll out my swag 'neath the boab tree
And then I'm out like a light dreaming about those
girls in town
Next thing it's broad daylight no time to dream of what
might have been
I'm in a dirty bull catcher with the mustering team
I better keep my mind on the job 'cause I'm a ringer
from the top end. Hey!
And nobody does the job better than a ringer from the
[Yodel]
Now I've been around Australia and I've travelled
everywhere
But there's one place I really like to go
Where the land is big and wide and tall dark ringers
ride
On the plains of Peppimenarti, where the old Moyle
River flows
Tough riders there of course in a truck or on a horse
And they'll really teach you things you didn't know
It's excitement to the full if you're out there chasing
bulls
By the plains of Peppimenarti, where the old Moyle
River flows
And the Kangaroo still bounds on that rough and rugged
ground
The ant hills and the old pandanas grow
Yes and everyday's a Sunday if you're catching
Barramundi
By the plains of Peppimenarti, where the old Moyle
River flows
[Yodel]
(hey, hey hey)
[Instrumental]
Now the men out on the stock camps are the finest
riders known
And they'll work four weeks without a break or spell
They're the back bone of our beef steaks
And I've mentioned this before
And it's a story that I'm always proud to tell.
May the march of time never ever bring too many changes
To a way of life you people love and prize
May the years ahead be good ones
And you never lose your customs
With old Peppimenarti Hill looking down so old and wise
And the Kangaroo still bounds on that rough and rugged
ground
The ant hills and the old pandanas grow
Yes and everyday's a Sunday if you're catching
Barramundi
By the plains of Peppimenarti, where the old Moyle
River flows
And the Kangaroo still bounds on that rough and rugged
ground
The ant hills and the old pandanas grow
Yes and everyday's a Sunday if you're catching
Barramundi
By the plains of Peppimenarti, where the old Moyle
Now the weary week has ended, it's pay day on the job
Let's go down to the local and mingle with the mob
You'll meet the dinkum Aussies, rough and ready as they are
With hard faces brown as leather, lined up around the bar
Someone is sure to greet you, you chaps I'm glad to see
Come on you pair of somethings, and have a drink with me
While the barmaid juggles glasses and the boss works with a will
For he loves to hear the rattle of the silver in the till
Now the rousabout is busy, he hasn't time to think
And I'm sure he'd never hear you if you ask him for a drink
Oh the barrels that are heavy will be light ones very soon
When the brumbies come to water on a pay day afternoon
Now the world is such a great place, everyone is doing well
And strange it is to listen to the stories that they tell
Some are ridin' buckin' brumbies, some are up north in the cane
Some are growling at the weather and are wishing it would rain
And there's old Jimmy Wooter in the corner by himself
Telling stories to the bottles that are standing on the shelf
Oh he once was high and mighty though forlorn he's looking now
In a hat that came from nowhere and a torn old Jackie Howe
Now the clock is moving onwards, the lightweights have their fill
But those with more horse power are staying with it still
Some have already had it and are layed out in a swoon
They'll be grumpy when they wake up on a pay day afternoon
Hear the hen-pecked hubbies saying what will become of me
For I told my little woman that I'd hurry home to tea
She's going to play old Harry and whale like one bereft
When she digs into my pockets and she finds there's little left
I camped one night in an empty hut
On the side of a lonely hill.
I didn't go much on empty huts,
But the night was awful chill.
So I boiled me billy and had me tea
And made sure that the door was shut.
Then I went to sleep in the empty bunk
By the wall of the old slab shed.
Now it must have been in the middle of the night
When I was feeling cosy and warm
I woke and there at the foot of my bunk
I see a horrible ghostly form
It seemed in shape to be half an ape
With a head like a chimpanzee
And I wondered what it was doing there,
And what did it want with me?
You may say if you please that I had DTs
Or call me a crimson liar,
But I wish you had seen it as plain as me,
With it's eyes like coals of fire.
Then it gave a groan such a horrible moan,
That my blood run cold with fear,
And ‘There’s only the two of us here, ’
It said. ‘There’s only the two of us here!’
I kept one eye on the old hut door
And one on the awful brute;
For I only wanted to dress meself
And get to the door and scoot.
But I couldn't find where I'd left me boots
So I hadn’t a chance to clear
And, ‘There’s only the two of us here, ’
it said. ‘There’s only the two of us here!’
I hadn’t a thing to defend meself,
Couldn't find a stick nor a stone,
And ‘There’s only the two of here!’
It said, again with a horrible moan.
I thought I'd better make some reply,
For I thought that the end was near,
I said "Tarzan old man when I find my boots,
By hell there’ll only be one of us here.’
Well I get my hands on me number tens
And out through the door I scoots,
And I lit the whole of the ridges up
With the sparks from me blucher boots.
So I've never slept in a hut since then,
And I tremble and shake with fear
When I think of the horrible brute that moaned,
‘There’s only the two of us here!’
[Yodel]
Once when I was musterin', out Carnarvon way
I had a mob of musterers aworkin' night an' day
Well when the mobs were restin', you wouldn't hear a
sound
But when they started movin' you could hear all around
Hey, stitch 'em up, fetch 'em back, turn the leaders
round
Then come behind, come behind, come behind, you hound
Oh, we were under contract to run the scrubbers there
In amongst the gorges, the caves an' prickly-pear
We'd bulge 'em through the timber to sweep them down
the plain
And if we saw a Mickey break, we'd yell this old
refrain
Hey, stitch 'em up, fetch 'em back, turn that blighter
round
Then come behind, come behind, come behind, you hound
[Yodel]
I had a dog called Bluey, a terrier called Dot
And if I ever wanted them, well, they were on the spot
They'd trot along beside me, as quiet as fallin' snow
And you could see them strainin' when I'd give the word
to go
Hey stitch 'em up, fetch 'em back, turn the leaders
round,
Then come behind, come behind, come behind, you hound
We'd box 'em in the big yard an' draft 'em through the
pound
We'd hit 'em with the red-hot brand an' leave 'em safe
an' sound
We didn't mind the sweatin' or workin' rather hard
But boys you'd hear a swearin' when they broke out of
the yard
Hey stitch 'em up, fetch 'em back, turn the leaders
round
Then come behind, come behind, come behind, you hound
[Yodel]
Our beards were gettin' curly before we left that run
But the boys they liked it tough, an' sure had lots o'
Now if you were to ask me what stood out on my mind
Well if you'd like to wait a tick, I will soon unwind
Hey stitch 'em up, fetch 'em back, turn the leaders
round
Have you seen the bush by moonlight, from the train, go
running by?
Here a patch of glassy water; there a glimpse of mystic
sky?
Have you heard the still voice calling, yet so warm,
and yet so cold:
"I'm the Mother-Bush that bore you! Come to me when you
are old"?
Did you see the bush below you, sweeping darkly to the
Range,
All unchanged and all unchanging, yet so very old and
strange!
Did you hear the bush a-calling, when your heart was
young and bold:
"I'm the Mother-bush that nursed you; Come to me when
you are old?"
[Instrumental]
Through the long and thunderous cutting, and the night
train should be still,
Did you hear the grey bush calling from the pine-ridge
overhead:
"You have seen the seas and cities, all seems done and
all seems told,
I'm the Mother-Bush that loves you, come to me now you
are old?"
Have you seen the bush by moonlight, from the train, go
running by?
Here a patch of glassy water; there a glimpse of mystic
sky?
Have you heard the still voice calling, yet so warm,
and yet so cold:
"I'm the Mother-Bush that bore you! Come to me now you
are old"?
"I'm the Mother-Bush that loves you! Come to me now you
There's a big red ’roo on the road ahead
If he don't jump soon I'd say he's gonna be dead
I'm not mean you gotta understand
But if you're on my road you take your life in your
hands
There's some louts in a car a few miles back
Trying to recover from a heart attack
They're all Jack Brabhams well that's just tough
‘Cause when they're on my road you've gotta learn to
eat dust
On my road I'm a king you see
With a rig this big there's no democracy
And if you want to argue the point with me
You'd better have nerves of steel
500 horses and a hundred ton load
‘Cause without all that mate, you're on my road
There's an old sugar daddy who won't let me pass
In front of his doll I'd say he's tryin’ to be smart
I'll move a little closer and sit on his tail
‘Cause if he's on my road I'll put the wind up his
sails
On my road I'm a king you see
With a rig this big there's no democracy
If you want to argue the point with me
You'd better have nerves of steel
500 horses and a hundred ton load
‘Cause without all that hey, you're on my road - that's
right
[Instrumental]
Now the boys in blue just turn a blind eye
Pretending they’re busy when I roll by
We got this understanding you see
When they’re on my road they take their orders from me
On my road I'm a king you see
With a rig this big there's no democracy
And if you want to argue the point with me
You'd better have nerves of steel
500 horses and a hundred ton load
‘Cause without all that hey, you're on my road
On my road I'm a king you see
With a rig this big there's no democracy
And if you want to argue the point with me
you'd better have nerves of steel
500 horses and a hundred ton load
As I pick up my guitar to sing another song
I hear the walls of this old hall - you've done this thing too long
You know you've been around for years, I guess you've shown us all
I talk like this when I reminisce with an old time country hall
I joined a tent show as a kid with a dream and an old guitar
The Silvers All-Star Cavalcade and Dandy was the star
He taught me lots about the game, today I understand
He was a great magician, Dandy was a fine old man
I'm a howlin' cattle-hand crooner
I'm an old time dinosaur
Hey, let me sing where the rafters ring
In an old time country hall, that's right
I've been on the road for thirty years but Dandy could double that
And you'll find his faded poster still in some hall way out back
I like to go back stage and dream sometimes and just recall
The shows I've had, the good and bad, shared with these country halls
Take the old Town Hall Kalgoorlie with it's old time charm and grace
And your mounting million complexes never will replace
All glass and steal and concrete, some large and some too small
So let me sing where the rafters ring in an old time country hall, hey
We showed last night in the school of arts and the town was real run-down
You'll find so many towns like that today as you move around
Yeah, the wind of change is blowin' up such an economic low
The old time shows we used to know will soon be off the road
I'm a howlin' cattle-hand crooner
I'm an old time dinosaur
Hey, let me sing where the rafters ring
In an old time country hall
In an old time country hall
For a starter of description just to get the picture
right
Bowlegged, bold and lively, 5 foot 8 or 9 in height
Of stocky build, complexion dark, his age slow on the
rise
A smiling face and light grey hair and pale blue
western eyes.
A tough old stag he rolled his swag when itchy feet
took over
His place of birth? Well I dunno where the Mitchell
grasses grow
But I kinda get the notion as I carry on this ride
It was somewhere in the sand hills near the channel
country side
Oh he’ll make your bloody hair stand up with something
that occurred
And so unrealistic that at first you doubt his word
Every story is a boomer full of action, laughs and
strength
Why he’d stretch the Diamantina or the Cooper twice
their length
For years he was a drover in the days of bells and
packs
From the Canning to the Murranji and down the
Birdsville track
He was reared on ribs and brisket; don’t go in for
fancy stuff
And I guess that’s just the reason he’s so rugged hard
and rough
[Spoken] yeah he’s rough alright, like my guitar
playin’
When he rides around the cattle restless nights as
black as ink
Summer nights or freezing winter Scobie loves a rum to
drink
Oh I’d like to have the money that he’s spent on booze
and games
I could buy a cattle station and a brewery with the
change
Half Australia’s coloured stockmen, that’s including
women too
Will remember this old codger when their boomerangs
were new
They rode through scrub and lignum where a dog could
never bark
Flushing out defiant mickies, missing none though it
was dark
Yeah for years he was a drover in the days of bells and
packs
From the Canning to the Murranji and down the
Birdsville track
He was reared on ribs and brisket; don’t go in for
fancy stuff
And I guess that’s just the reason he’s so rugged hard
and rough
[Spoken] Here I go again now, all these fancy guitars
mmmmhmmm
When he’s drinking in the city townies grip the bar and
laugh
He’s a drover just delivered sand goannas all in calf
And when he tells a tall one, it’s Kosciusko high
Then quickly change direction and almost make you cry
When the Southern Cross and diamond tail at night
illuminate
I often think of Scobie waitin’ outside heavens’ gate
With his saddlebag and quartpot and branding iron worn
thin
Oh I’ll bet he’ll con St Peter and the old man lets him
I'm seated in the grandstand at a big-time rodeo
With my walking stick beside me as I watch the scene below
There are youngon's ridin' outlaws as I did when young and free
And I wonder are there many old ex-riders here like me
The horses they are ridin' couldn't buck to save their hide
Oh I'd like to see these youngon's on the ones I used to ride
I've used the likes of spinifex for a night horse on the run
And brahma bulls like Wadgerra, we rode them just for fun
The saddles they are using are designed to hold you in
And the halter shanks are silky so as not to hurt your skin
We rode in flattened ?Poleans? in the days of long ago
And could have rolled a smoke aboard the likes of Curio
The steers they use for doggin' are no bigger than a calf
And the time they take to throw them make us old timers laugh
We used to scrub big Mickey's twice the size in cattle yards
Oh but that was many years ago way back when times were hard
These youngon's dress so lairy in their fancy cowboy suits
We used to ride in moleskins and a pair of Bluecha boots
But all our glory's vanished, we're forgotten men, it seems
They say I'm getting older and my hair is turnin' grey,
They say I should be slowing down, give it all away.
Living like a gypsy doesn't bother me at all,
And I'd sooner be a 'has been' than a 'never was at
all'.
Now, I could've been a shearer and I could've been a
vet,
Could've been a lot of things, of this much you can
bet.
A man can sit there hangin' like a picture on the wall,
But I'd sooner be a 'has been' than a 'never was at
all'.
Oh, I’d sooner be 'has been' than a 'never was at all',
All my life I had a go, really had a ball.
If you don't climb the ladder, mate, then you can never
fall,
And I'd sooner be a 'has been' than a 'never was at
all'.
[Instrumental]
When I look at that old suitcase and I think of how it
was,
The bad times and the good times, hey, and we did it
just because.
I know I had to try it and today I'm standing tall,
’Cause I'd sooner be a 'has been' than a 'never was at
all'.
Now, you won't reach the finish line if you don't ever
start
You'll never live and you'll never love if you don't
have a heart.
So don't just sit there whinging mate, it's no damn
good at all
And I'd sooner be a 'has been' than a 'never was at
all'.
Oh, I’d sooner be 'has been' than a 'never was at all',
Give it everything I'd got, really had a ball.
If you don't climb the ladder, mate, then you can never
fall,
And I'd sooner be a 'has been' than a 'never was at
all'.
And I'd sooner be a 'has been' than a 'never was at
all'.
In the wilds of northern Queensland there’s a man they
talk about
From Winton to the Isa and even further out
His abilities tough crims have found too late their
lesson learned
To tangle with a tracker known as Sergeant Nardoo Burns
Now his job you’ve likely gathered finds those outside
the law
And brings them in with a warning grin that you should
think before
Intending to as others do a life of crime you yearn
Don’t cross his path you’ll feel the wrath of Sergeant
Nardoo Burns
At Normanton up in the Gulf with the white man police
he rides
For 15 years he carried out and held his job with pride
Though many tried to beat him they found the tables
turned
And right back where they started from was Sergeant
Nardoo Burns
[Instrumental]
Well he saddled his horse and packed his swag and went
to find alone
Six hundred head of cattle driven off to parts unknown
Three months that journey took him through no man’s
land and back
Three months of heat and dust and hell no worse the
Birdsville track
They tried every trick to beat him in their efforts to
deter
But the tracker stuck to his quarry like the noted
Queensland burr
And when finally he found them with humour since
revived
On the stockyard gate he sat to wait, Nardoo had
arrived
Yes tracker of the outback he’s wiry tough and black
And there’s not a man be white or tan that’s put him on
his back
Though many tried to beat him they found the tables
turned
And right back where they started from was Sergeant
Nardoo Burns
Oh, hushed are the voices and grey are the skies,
And many the teardrops fall from dark and saddened
eyes.
And many fair brothers will stand with bowed head.
For the message came this morning, Namatjira is dead.
Oh, the stairs that Namatjira climbed are to the Hall
of Fame,
And there he left upon its wall a true Australian name.
His paintings are of God's own country where it's
people claim,
The stairs that Namatjira climbed are to the Hall of
Fame,
The Golden Stairs of Fame.
Among our great artists and heros of fame,
We'll always remember and honour his name.
He painted this country for the whole world to see,
He painted Australia just as it should be.
Oh, the stairs that Namatjira climbed are to the Hall
of Fame,
And there he left upon its wall a true Australian name.
His paintings are of God's own country where it's
people claim,
The stairs that Namatjira climbed are to the Hall of
Fame,
The Golden Stairs of Fame.
For Australia's dark sons, no prouder have they been
Than the day that Namatjira shook the hand of the
Queen.
Near the home that he loved so well he's sleeping
'neath the flowers
In the land of his Fathers that is his and ours.
Oh, the stairs that Namatjira climbed are to the Hall
of Fame,
And there he left upon its wall a true Australian name.
His paintings are of God's own country where it's
people claim
The stairs that Namatjira climbed are to the Hall of
Fame,
Why do I sit up late at night,
Putting my soul and all my might
Into the many songs I write
For our country people ?
Australia’s outback people.
Why do I sit for hours in here,
What made a derelect case of beer,
Or a fallen woman’s hopes and fears?
Because they are our people.
Australia’s busy people.
M-m, m-m, m-m
Why do I listen to the old men lie,
How men were better in days gone by ?
A grievous end, and here is why,
I feel for those old people.
Australia’s old time people.
How do I know what the young folks feel,
Blindly reaching out to feel
Something solid, something real
To lead Australian people ?
Proud Australian people.
M-m, m-m, m-m
Why do folk with coloured skin
Open their doors, invite me in ?
‘Cause Bungee’s people and I are kin,
He knows I know his people.
Those real Australian people.
Why do I sit up late at night,
Putting my soul and all my might
Into the many songs I write ?
Because I love my people.
Australia’s working people.
Now I've been drinkin’ since I was four
Ain't had enough and I still want more
Fill ‘em up again place the glasses in a row
I've been in the horrors and started to shake
But good hard liquor is what I take
And my pal alcohol I love you so
When I'm far away from home
And there's no pub I brew my own
Out of vegetables or anything that grows
I drink it till my eyes bulge out
Then I scream and rave and shout
'Cause my pal alcohol I love you so
[Instrumental]
I've a lot of good reasons for drinkin’
And one has just entered my head
If you don't have a charge while you're livin’
You've got no flamin’ chance when you're dead
Oh I don't care what people think
It's a well known fact I'll die from drink
'Cause my pal alcohol I love you so
I've very fine physicians
They’ve guarded me since my youth
One doctors name is Toohey
The other ones name is Tooth
I've seen my whiskers curl and singe
When I get through from a weekend binge
'Cause my pal alcohol I love you so
[Instrumental]
When I'm far away from home
And there's no pub I brew my own
Out of vegetables or anything that grows
I drink it till my eyes bulge out
Then I scream and rave and shout
'Cause my pal alcohol I love you so
Oh I hear there's a drink called water
It may appeal to some blokes
But to me I think it's unhealthy
See what it does to the bottoms of boats
This song’s about to end I think
So I must go for another drink
Yipi Yi Yippi Yi Aye
[Yodel]
Yipi Yi Yippi Yi Aye, Yodel a song in the modern way
It's not what you sing but how it swings
Yipi Yi Yippi Yi Aye
All spruced up in my saddle, as I ride to town today
The folk in town look at me and frown, but I grin back
and say
"You can have your life of hurry, you can peer at my
western clothes,
But I can rope and sing like anything, and yodel
through my sunburnt nose"
[Yodel]
Yipi Yi Yippi Yi Aye, Yodel a song in the modern way
It's not what you sing but how it swings
Yipi Yi Yippi Yi Aye
Ain't got no debts or worries, not tied to any gal
My home is just a saddle seat, my pony is my pal
When the mustering months are over and we bid goodbye
to spring
You'll find me the same as I am today, pushing back my
hat to sing.
[Yodel]
My legs are kind of bowed from horses that I've rode
Through the salt bush and the sand
I've got that rock'n'rollin' beat from this rollin' saddle seat
Because I live in the Never Never Land
I've never travelled out to all your high class towns
Because I'm right just where I am
Our town's a pub and general store, what's the use of any more
Yodel-ladee-oh-ladee-oh-ladee
As the dark holy night creeps around me
In silence I kneel down in tears
Many sound sleeping souls do surround me
As my thoughts wander back many years
And with a young girl I am roaming
And speaking of treasures divine
We kiss and caress in the gloaming
She was nobody’s darling but mine
I gaze into her eyes at twilight
Years of happiness then I could see
Her smile sparkled bright in the star light
Oh why was she taken from me?
That night when you told me in kindness
That your eye sight was failing and then
You spent your last days in sheer blindness
My heart broke to ne’er mend again
No one was more kind or more sweeter
She longed to be queen of a home
I pray that some day I shall meet her
In that far off wonderful home
Oh dear lord of justice in heaven
Oh hear me as I humbly pray
Ever linger with my dearest darling
‘Till I meet her up yonder some day
Oh-de-lay-ee-oh, de-lee-do-lay-ee-oh, do-lee-do-lay-ee-ee
Oh you've done me wrong but it won't be long
'Ere my blues are out of si-ight
And this old green ra-attler's ready to go
Rollin' out of tow-own tonight
See her steam and hear the whistle scream
And we're off on the northern line
Flyin' 38 never known to be late
Rock 'n' ro-oll alo-ong on time
Oh swing that pole and hear that engine roll
Keep the signals clear tonight
Women, wine and so-ong, I've had you too long
Gonna lose my blues tonight - yeah
Oh-de-lay-ee-oh, de-lee-do-lay-ee-oh, do-lee-do-lay-ee-ee-ee
I've been in town and I've been foolin' around
And spent some ti-ime in jail
Gonna start again, don't know where-ere or when
But tonight I'm changin' my trail
It's good to see the bush land free
'Neath the moon and the stars so bright
And this old green ra-attler seems to know
I'm a-losin' my blues tonight
Oh swing that pole and hear that engine roll
Keep the signals clear tonight
Women, wine and so-ong, I've had you too long
Gonna lose my blue-ues tonight
Oh let the smoke cloud fly, I'm sayin' goodbye
I'm gonna lose my blues tonight
Looking forward, looking back
I’ve come a long way down the track
Got a long way left to go
Making songs, from what I know
Making sense of what I’ve seen
All the love we’ve had between
You and I, along the track
Looking forward, looking back
There are strange days
Full of change on the way
But we’ll be fine, unlike some
I’ll be leaning forward, to see what’s coming
Looking forward, looking back
I’ve come a long way down the track
Got a long way left to go
Making songs, from what I know
[Instrumental]
If I’m alone at night, I can see
Through all the triviality
Of the day and I’m okay
I just think of those who are dear to me
Looking forward, looking back
I’ve come a long way down the track
Got a long way left to go
Making songs, from what I know
Making songs, from what I know
When I spend a week at home I just sit around and moan
It’s a cobweb that we call suburban load
Then I know it’s time to leave, I got freedom up my
sleeve
And my mates are out there on the long black road
When the pressures of the town start to grind you down
And you feel your very soul set to explode
And the troubles and the strife that surrounds you in
this life
You leave behind out on the long black road
You can have your city mansions swimming pools and
gardens big
Australia is my playground and my mansion this old rig
It’s the kind of life we choose and become addicted to
Yeah lovin’ livin’ drivin’ this old rig
[Fiddle/ Pedal Steel Solo]
One week we’re in the north, and another way down south
From east to west they need an urgent load
Then you’re rollin’ once again cross the big old
Nullarbor plain
It’s a lifetime rollin’ down the long black road
When the dust is flyin’ high out beneath the southern
It’s the best darn way of life you come across
And your home from home’s just fine this old black rig
of mine
The rig they call the flyin’ southern cross
Yeah you can have your city mansions swimming pools and
gardens big
Australia is my playground and my mansion this old rig
It’s the kind of life we choose and become addicted to,
Yeah lovin’ livin’ drivin’ this old rig
One week we’re in the north, and another way down south
From east to west they need an urgent load
Then you’re rollin’ once again cross the big old
Nullarbor plain
It’s a lifetime rollin’ down the long black road
It’s a lifetime rollin’ down the long black road
I’m drivin’ down the highway, and struck this bumpy by-way
This foolishness has thrown me out of gear
I dunno why I turned off, I only know I’m burned off
‘Cos I’m travellin’ down the lonesome road of tears.
My girl was smart and streamlined smooth as any shear line
But I’m just like a burnt out model T
The signboard reads tomorrow, you’ll still be chasin’ sorrow
As you’re travellin’ down the lonesome road of tears
In dreams I wander through, those summer nights with you
Oh darlin’ they were happy times
Now my heart is filled with woe, because I let you go
We parted when I crossed the double lines
Now I’m drivin’ down the highway, my dreams are just a by-way
As I’m travelling down the lonesome road of tears
I’m drivin’ an’ I’m dreamin’, but the moon above is beamin’
As if he’s bubblin’ over with his beams
Oh I’d like to try his skyways, moonlit open highways
Instead of travellin’ down this road of tears
I’ve tried so hard to show, and let my girlie know
How much I regret my play
I’ve pleaded and I’ve lied, yeah, I’ve hung my head and cried
But she just turns and walks the other way
So I guess it’s time to wander, my blues are getting’ stronger
As I’m movin on down the lonesome road of tears.
I’ve got those lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely blues
Lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely blues
I’ve got those lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely blues
Those lonely, lonely blues
(Well all right now)
Look what you done, what you done my baby
Look what you done, what you done my baby
Look what you’ve done to my heart
You’ve made a date then you said maybe
Then you walked away with another baby
Look what you’ve done to my heart
I’ve got those lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely blues
Lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely blues
I’ve got those lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely blues
The lonely, lonely blues
(Well all right now, here we go)
Look what you done, what you done my baby
Look what you’ve done, what you done my baby
Look what you’ve done to my heart
You’ve made a date then you said maybe
Then you walked away with another baby
Look what you’ve done to my heart
I’ve got those lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely blues
Lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely blues
I’ve got those lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely blues
Oh the bar was pretty small, but we didn’t mind at all
Mostly only locals hanging round
Many years I’ve been away, I wonder what it’s like
today
That little old one horse pub in my hometown.
Many nights we’d all ride in and the boys would have a
fling
In the days before too many cars were 'round
I confess we jumped the gun, late closing had begun
At that little old one horse pub in my town.
[Spoken] Ah tell that story now
[Guitar Solo]
Jimmy Woodser came there too, but his mates were very
He was so darn mean he used glow worms in the dark
He would always dodge his shout, and the story soon got
about
That Jimmy wouldn’t shout if he was bitten by a shark
I can see old Roy McBell, hear the stories he could
tell
When he’d spin the yarns the boys would gather round
I was always in it too and I made my first debut
At that little old one horse pub in my hometown.
(Ah yeah man)
[Instrumental]
Now they say it’s run it’s race and there’s a new pub
in its place
Not many of the old gang left around
In my mind I’ll always see, the way things used to be
In that little old one horse pub in my hometown.
Well the best is all behind you,
by the time you reach my age in years
And the only luxuries you know
are a T-bone steak and a round or two of beer
And the roads you know are the distant tracks
And the bulldust and the never ending spaces
And the only family you know
Is the smiling friendly outback peoples faces
I've got no family of my own,
This old drivers always been, a rolling stone
But there's always some waiting,
Waiting there beyond the saltbush sea
No matter how long I've been gone,
They’ve always got the billy on
Waiting like a family for me'
[Instrumental]
There's always someone waiting
On a lonely isolated cattle run
Sitting on the stockyard rails
To roll a smoke and watch the setting sun
And we’ll shake hands and we’ll swap news,
Boil the billy on the coals for tea
By first light I'll be loaded up,
Sail again across the saltbush sea.
Tomorrow I'll be gone again
Alone with my fully loaded train
The farewells are behind me,
And it might be 12 months ‘ere I call again
But there's a bond that ties me to
The people of beyond the saltbush sea
It's the bond of the outback
That makes them like a family to me
I've got no family of my own,
This old drivers always been, a rolling stone
But there's always some waiting,
Waiting there beyond the saltbush sea
Oh no matter how long I've been gone,
They’ve always got the billy on
Waiting like a family for me
Oh-hoh-hoh-hoh-yeah
It's a long straight road and the engine is deep
I can't help thinkin' of a good night's sleep
And the long long roads of my life were a callin' me
These rough old hands are a-glued to the wheel
My eyes full of sand from the way they feel
And the lights comin' over the hill are a-blindin' me
It's a long tough haul from a-way down south
A man's gotta find a little bread for his mouth
And a home for a girl as sweet as my honey can be
So it's down through the gears, she's a-startin' to
pull
The gauge on the tank is a-showin' they're full
And the lights comin' over the hill are a-blindin' me
There's rain on the road and I can feel the load start
a-shiftin'
In a dance
Too late, I see the post and I haven't got a ghost of a
chance
Ah-hah-hah-no
The windscreen wipers are a-beatin' in time
The song they sing is a part of my mind
And I can't believe it's a-really happenin' to me
Oh, but I'm over the edge and down the mountain side
I know they'll tell about the night I died
In the rain when the lights on the hill were a-blindin'
Hey!
[Instrumental]
There's rain on the road and I can feel the load start
a-shiftin'
In a dance
Too late, I see the post and I haven't got a ghost of a
chance
Ah-hah-hah-no
The windscreen wipers are a-beatin' in time
The song they sing is a part of my mind
And I can't believe it's a-really happenin' to me
Oh, but I'm over the edge and down the mountain side
I know they'll tell about the night I died
In the rain when the lights on the hill were a-blindin'
In the rain when the lights on the hill were a-blindin'
Now in this world I've gained my knowledge
And for it I've had to pay
Though I've never been to college
I have heard the poets say
That life is like a mighty river
Flowing on from day to day
Men are vessels launched upon it
Sometimes wrecked and cast away
So do your best for one another
Making life a pleasant dream
Help your weary worn out brother
Pulling hard against the stream
We never know what lies before us
So old ways be staunch and strong
Lift your hearts into this chorus
As we swiftly go along
There's many the right good hearted fellow
Many a noble-minded man
Finds himself in shallow water
Then boys help him if you can
So do your best for one another
Making life a pleasant dream
Help your weary worn out brother
Pulling hard against the stream
Yes life is like a mighty river
Flowing on from day to day
Men are vessels launched upon it
Sometimes wrecked and cast away
Sometimes wrecked and cast away
Yes he's lookin' kind of jaded
And his sight is not the best
And the hair around his muzzle's turnin' grey
He has seen a hundred musters
And I think it's only fair
We leave him in the longyard here today
He was broken in the sixties
Maybe sixty three or four
Never faltered always seemed to be on hand
Never have I seen him beaten
By a bullock in the bush
And at a night watch he was pick of all the land.
So leave him out there in the longyard
Do not rush him
Leave him out there with his mate the baldy bay
Leave him there till after smoko
And we'll catch him
We'll pull his tail and turn him out today
Yes he's lookin' kind of jaded
And his sight is not the best
And the hair around his muzzle's turnin' grey
He has seen a hundred musters
And I think it's only fair
We leave him in the longyard here today
He's entitled to some kindness
In return for all he's been
Now he's failin' and his step is gettin' slow
Let him squander his last summer
By the river with his mates
In the paddock where the sweetest grasses grow
So leave him out there in the longyard
Do not rush him
Leave him out there with his mate the baldy bay
With his mates that he can graze
And he can laze with
Leave him there and we will turn him out today
So leave him out there in the longyard
Do not rush him
Leave him out there with his mate the baldy bay
With his mates that he can graze
And he can laze with
Leave him there and we will turn him out today
You've been around a-playin', now do I hear you sayin'
That you still love me the most
My love you now desire, but there's a bad misfire
Don't take me for your leanin' post
When you were in the limelight, I never got the spotlight
I wasn't good enough to know
You say you're sad and sorry for causin' all the worry
And that you need me so
Well, if I believe your story and take you back and love you
I'm the boss and there's no suppose
And I hope you've learned your lesson and there'll be no more guessin'
Who's gonna be your leanin' post
Ah, let's hear it now
You've been around a-playin', now do I hear you sayin'
That you still love me the most
My love, you now desire, but there's a bad misfire
Don't take me for your leanin' post
When you were in the limelight, I never got the spotlight
I wasn't good enough to know
You say you're sad and sorry for causin' all the worry
And that you need me so
Well, if I believe your story and take you back and love you
I'm the boss and there's no suppose
And I hope you've learned your lesson and there'll be no more guessin'
Who's gonna be your leanin' post, oh yeah
Who's gonna be your leanin' post, oh yeah
From out across the great divide, a story reached my
ears
About a jackass and a boy; I'd like you all to hear.
At daylight in the mornin', his little heart it thrills
To the echoes in the valley, from the laughter in the
hills.
Perched up in a tall gumtree, by the homestead so I
hear
A happy kookaburra, laughs away his fear
He wakes the little feller, who jus' tumbles out of bed
As he got dressed he said aloud, "My friend must be
fed."
He found some bits and pieces, which he placed upon
some bark
And soon the jackass he came down as happy as a lark
And as the sun peeped o'er the hill, he jumped around
so grand,
And then he ate a piece of meat out of the younger's
hand
Well when that lad went back inside, his father said,
"Young man,
You'll have to get rid of that bird as quickly as you
can,
For lately I've been worried, and I miss my morning
rest
I think that bird of yours, young man, is nothing but a
pest."
Next morning see his father up beneath that old
gumtree,
With red meat full of strychnine, "I'll get that bird",
thought he,
Then went into the house, he chanced to look around
And saw that jackass swoop upon a black snake on the
ground
He dived down and grabbed that snake, as quick as any
cat,
He bumped and bashed and banged him and shook him like
a rat
They tossled there upon the ground and then he flew up
high
And soon that reptile met his death, from somewhere in
the sky.
The father scratched his greying head and felt a little
ashamed
If my son had been poisoned, I'd be the one to blame.
So he told his wife and little son, of all that he did
And now trhat jackass is just one of a happy family.
From out across the great divide, a story rings so true
About a jackass and a boy, I think, of something new
At daylight in the mornin', his little herart it
thrills
To the echoes in the valley, from the laughter in the
Let me tell you a little story 'bout the way things
used to be,
My Dad took me to Sydney back in 1943
He said "Son you're not wearing those, they'd call us
bush galoots,
If you went out and walked about in those high-heeled
riding boots."
But I stand back and laugh today at the way that times
have changed,
So many town-folk dressed as if they just stepped off
the range,
But that day back in '43 I could not pick and choose,
The day my old man made me wear a pair of lace up
shoes.
We went out to Regal Zonophone on Parramatta Road
We walked along Columbia Lane where some famous feet
have strode,
But the man in charge was not impressed, "Don't call us
we'll call you."
And to make things worse my feet still hurt from those
dammed new lace-up shoes.
And there were soldiers everywhere in town six o'clock
was closing time,
And if you didn't tip everywhere you went the yanks won
all the time,
I was pushed along as I dreamed of home where the skies
were clean and blue,
Far away from this rat race in town and big mobs with
lace-up shoes.
But I stand back and laugh today at the way that times
have changed,
So many town-folk dressed as if they just stepped off
the range,
But that day back in '43 I could not pick and choose,
The day my old man made me wear a pair of lace-up
shoes.
Here we go.
[Instrumental]
Now as I look back on the singing track since 1943,
The harder I worked, you know old mate, the luckier I
seemed to be,
But I've always sung of the old home run in the best
was that I knew,
But I still feel bad when I think of Dad and those
dammed new lace-up shoes.
Yeah I stand back and laugh today at the way that times
have changed,
So many town-folk dressed as if they just stepped off
the range,
I've lived my life with few regrets, the same again I'd
choose,
And Be flat as a tack in this old felt hat with my pair
of Williams shoes.
With land and sky and lots of room, and a thousand
miles or more,
I rev and point old purple (purple) on the Nullabor.
They say "G'day?" They say "How are you?" "you're
gettin' thin on top,
You've been travelling like a big old ball of rolly
polly grass,"
Like a big old ball of rolly polly grass, I'm rollin'
[Instrumental]
They say G'day old Dusty mate you're gettin' thin on
top,
you've been goin' for so long now will you never ever
stop?
But with mates around the country it's the only way I
see 'em,
And I've said before this travellin' mate is pretty
close to freedom.
With land and sky and lots of room, and a thousand
miles or more,
I rev and point old purple out across the Nullabor.
From the cattle country in the north to Tassie way down
south,
Oh I've seen this old brown country in the big wet and
the drought.
So get off your seat and come outback across the
blacksoil plains,
And you'll find the old Australian ways have very
little changed.
With land and sky and lots of room, and a thousand
miles just gone,
Like a big old ball of roly-poly grass I'm rollin' on
[Instrumental]
In the footsteps of explorers like the famous Burke and
Wills,
Oh I've seen the dreamtime beauty of those Namatjira
hills.
So don't ever try to pin me down to say where I like
best,
I just like Australia mate, North East South and West.
With land and sky and lots of room, and a thousand
miles just gone,
Like a big old ball of roly-poly grass I'm rollin' on
With land and sky and lots of room, and a thousand
miles just gone,
As I gaze out through my window I see hungry cattle
stand
Chewing sprigs of old man saltbush partly buried in the
sand
No trees to form a shelter from the blazing sun ahead
And dingoes eat the bones and hide of cattle long since
dead
Across the barren hopeless plain the shimmering mirage
leaps
Like phantom lakes that beckon on and claim your soul
for keeps
The heatwaves dance across the land zigzagging as it
goes
And butt bush flies a million miles as a big red dust
storm blows
The waterholes along the creeks and earthen tanks are
The windmills workin’ overtime and the hungry crows
stand by
Sandblasting winds like tongues of flame burn off
remaining feed
And the men who battle old man drought are a tough and
hardy breed
[Instrumental]
The sight of rollin’ rainclouds are strangers’ way out
there
And the savage twisted whirlwinds have left the country
bare
There’s miles of station fencing covered up by shifting
sand
Makes you wonder why the weather gods don’t lend a
helping hand
But every day that passes brings us nearer to the time
When stormclouds raise their thunderheads ready to
unwind
And when the rain comes pouring down cascading down our
necks
We’ll dream the dream all bushmen dream fat bullocks
and silver cheques
[Instrumental]
There’s nothing like the soaking rain to lift a
bushmans chest
And to see the dams all bywashed and the country fully
dressed
I one time heard a bushman say while drovin’ on the
track
It takes one hell of an old man drought to bring this
country back
Yes there’s nothing like the soaking rain to lift a
bushmans chest
And to see the dams all bywashed and the country fully
dressed
I one time heard a bushman say while drovin’ on the
track
It takes one hell of an old man drought to bring this
Don't really know what day it is, scarcely know who I
Been up up all night drinking beer and that red wine,
Trying to forget the things I don't recall now.
And the mirror on my wall, confirms the way I feel
As I pour myself another drink or two,
So let's drink a toast, to the one that we love most,
As the sun rises over Isa.
Over Isa, my old Isa, girl you've got a charm of your
own,
Isa, my old Isa, oh girl you make a man feel well at
home.
[Instrumental]
Before I came here I was wanderin', I was alone and I
was young,
Looking for someone who would hold me and protect me,
As I made lots of money to retire on.
that's when I found you, you crazy town,
You lured me and I had to make you mine.
I pray to God tomorrow a little better than today,
As the sun rises over Isa.
Over Isa, my old Isa, girl you've got a charm of your
own,
Isa, my old Isa, girl you make a man feel well at home.
Isa, my old Isa, oh girl you make a man feel well at
home.
Good old Ironbark Jim you’ve never seen the likes of
He’s the strongest man in the great outback
He can lift a horse and sulky up on his back
He’s as hard as horseshoe nails and he’s been in more
bush jails
Than fleas on a dog and he drinks enough grog
To irrigate New South Wales
When Jim was only 2 years old or so his father said
He couldn’t find him anywhere till he found him the
shed
He said to Ironbark look here son stop actin’ like a
clown
You not gonna shoe that flamin’ horse so put that anvil
down
Good old Ironbark Jim you’ve never seen the likes of
He’s the strongest man in the great outback
He can lift a horse and sulky up on his back
He’s as hard as horseshoe nails and he’s been in more
bush jails
Than fleas on a dog and he drinks enough grog
To irrigate New South Wales
Now when it comes to fightin’ men he’s the greatest in
the land
He’ll take on two or three men mate and only use one
hand
Two drovers picked him years ago but he left them both
out cold
Which wasn’t too bad cause at the time he was only nine
years old
Good old Ironbark Jim you’ve never seen the likes of
He’s the strongest man in the great outback
He can lift a horse and sulky up on his back
He’s as hard as horseshoe nails and he’s been in more
bush jails
Than fleas on a dog and he drinks enough grog
To irrigate New South Wales
Oh Jim once entered into a rowin’ race across Port
Phillip Bay
As soon as he heard the starters gun Ironbark was on
his way
He left the others far behind his stamina beat the band
When he finally stopped exhausted he was a mile and a
half inland
Good old Ironbark Jim you’ve never seen the likes of
He’s the strongest man in the great outback
He can lift a horse and sulky up on his back
He’s as hard as horseshoe nails and he’s been in more
bush jails
Than fleas on a dog and he drinks enough grog
To irrigate New South Wales
Oh oh oh good old Ironbark Jim you’ve never seen the
likes of him
From coast to coast by night and day, hear the clickin' of the wheels
The hummin' of the diesel on her ribbons of steel
Carryin' the memories of a nation built by hand
See the Indian Pacific span the land
She's the pride of all the railway men 'cross country where she flies
From the blue Pacific waters to where the mountains rise
By lakes and wide brown rivers, through desert country dry
See the Indian Pacific passin' by
Oh the Indian Pacific she goes rollin' down the track
Five thousand miles to travel before she's there and back
Beside the line, a drover waves his battered old grey hat
And kids are catchin' yabbies down by the river flat
And a woman hangs her washing in a backyard near the line
As the Indian Pacific's rollin' by
Instrumental
Hear the whistle blowin' lonely 'neath the Nullabor star light
Saluting those who walk across the track she romps tonight
Callin' to the railway camp and the fettlers on the line
I'm the Indian Pacific, right on time
From the silver of the Broken Hill to old Kalgoorlie gold
She mirrors all the colours of the land so hard and old
Then the western clouds are blooming and the air is just like wine
And the Indian Pacific's makin' time
Oh the Indian Pacific she goes rollin' down the track
Five thousand miles to travel before she's there and back
From the waters of the western sea to the eastern ocean sand
The Indian Pacific spans the land
If you walk out that gate you'll be leavin' it too late,
Think it over the same as I,
If you slam my front door, never darken it no more,
If you walk out that gate, it's goodbye.
We've been friends for so long, why has everything gone
wrong,
We can patch it up again, let's try,
Put your traveling bag away, come inside here and say,
Who's to blame, well I don't know, you or I.
[Instrumental]
If you walk out that gate with a heart filled with hate,
You'll be sorry some day and cry,
If you go and leave the scene think of what might have
been,
If you walk out that gate, it's goodbye.
If you walk out that gate you'll be leavin' it too late,
Think it over the same as I,
If you slam my front door, never darken it no more,
If you walk out that gate, it's goodbye.
(Yodel)
A party for the little one that everyone should go
They sang the songs of Home Sweet Home, the one we all
loved so.
Without a ragged dial for Don, his heart so lone and sad
He never had a home sweet home with a dear inviting bed.
If only had a home sweet home, someone to care for me,
Like all the other boys and girls, how happy I would be,
A kind mother and father dear, to call me all their own,
This world would be all sunshine, if I had a home sweet
home.
[Yodel and Instrumental]
The little ones now homeward bound, their hearts so light
and free,
The ragged child who wandered on the home sweet home
paddy
No cosy little bed for him but home so browned and bare
And as he lay him down to sleep no more (missing words)
If only had a home sweet home, someone to care for me,
Like all the other boys and girls, how happy I would be,
A kind mother and father dear, to call me all their own,
This world would be all sunshine, if I had a home sweet
home.
I'm going back again to Yarrawonga
In Yarrawonga I'll linger longer
I'm goin' back again to Yarrawonga
Where the skies are always blue
And when I'm back again in Yarrawonga
I'll soon be stronger, then over hunger
You can have all your Tennessee and Caroline
I'm gonna get some lovin' from that mammy of mine
I'm goin' back again to Yarrawonga
The sun went down on the Simpson as we ordered our
second round
There's nothing quite like the feeling of that first
cold beer going down
And drivin’ from the Curry to Birdsville you work up
one hell of a thirst
Between the heat, the rough roads, and bulldust it's
hard to say what's the worst
I'm dusty all over from hat to my heels
I'm dusty all over and I like how it feels
These travellin’ bones won't leave me alone
I reckon they’re set in their ways
So I guess you'd say hey, hey I'm dusty all over
Camped by the roadside near Winton telling some yarns
round the fire
With a handful of mates and some locals and the stories
grew higher and higher
And everyone’s tryin’ for one better bending the truth
till it broke
Between all the lies and the bullshit the air was just
thicker than smoke
I'm dusty all over from hat to my heels
I'm dusty all over and I like how it feels
These travellin’ bones won't leave me alone
I reckon they’re set in their ways
So I guess you'd say hey, hey I'm dusty all over
I stopped at the old town and country about dinner time
the other day
When a couple of blokes at the end of the bar started
whispering and pointing my way
Well finally one of 'em came over steady as steady
could go
He took my hat off the bar held it over my head and
said “mate told you so”
that's right
I'm dusty all over from hat to my heels
I'm dusty all over and I like how it feels
These travellin’ bones won't leave me alone
I reckon they’re set in their ways
So I guess you'd say hey, hey I'm dusty all over
I was talking to a swaggy yesterday
His beard was long his hair was silver grey
His dress was out of style but he wore a friendly smile
And here is what the old man had to say
“You may think me most unusual my boy
When I tell you straight that I am stony broke
I tramp from year to year and I’ll drink all kinds of
beer
But I like to have good 'baccy when I smoke"
Now I’ll show you this here old terbacco tin
The paint is gone the sides are dinted in
But it’s opened many a bottle in its wild and chequered
life
And to me it has always been a friend
[Yodel]
I one time had a wife and everything
But a stranger came and soon we were apart
So I left my friends and home and I hit the road to
roam
But nicotine has mended my old heart
I’ve got no use for money in my life
You strive and struggle till it gets you down
I tramp until I lag and then I’ll drop my swag
And I’ll sit and smoke and watch the world go round
When finally I reach the golden gates
They say St Peter he’s a decent bloke
If I’m taken with the blessed this will be my last
request
I must have good terbaccy when I smoke
Yes I was talking to that swaggy yesterday
And what he told me I’ll remember clear
Trampin’ out there with the breeze happy as the birds
and bees
And I reckon that he has the right idea.
Good day there young feller, hey give us your hand,
It's time you and me said "Hello",
I nearly fell over when I saw your face,
With a smile that I knew long ago,
And you don't know me from a bar of soap,
And you're wondering 'Who in the hell?
This old bloke could be and what do I want?'
I knew your father real well.
I knew your father real well, boy,
In the days when our hair wasn't grey,
But he'll never be dead son while you're still alive,
I can hardly believe it today,
When you walked in the door and up to the bar,
I could see him as clear as a bell,
You drink the same brand of poison he drank,
Yes, I knew your father real well.
Didn't he ever just mention my name?
He must've, some time told a tale,
Of the days on the stations out Charlieville way,
And the droving trips down New South Wales,
A good mate he was but a bit of the lad,
I could tell you a story or two,
Like when we hit the Hungerford pub on the Ted
And we took on the bar just we two.
Oh, he told you that story, well never mind,
There's plenty more where that came from,
The things a bloke does when he's keen on a girl,
Of course long before he met your mum,
He settled down then and I stayed on the move,
But I miss my old mate on the track,
The camps an' the musters, and some of the yarns,
Yes, I knew your father way back.
Don't tell me that stinkin’ great road train outside,
Is what you're droving on now-a-days,
My old mate would turn in his grave, so he would,
To see you desert the old ways,
But it's none of my business an' I'm sorry I spoke,
I was wrong to because after all,
You're following still on the old pilgrims tracks,
Your father and I drove before.
Yes, I knew your father real well boy,
An' I wish he were here by our side,
To join with the two of us yarning away,
He'll be glad we met up, you and I,
Well thanks for the yarn, give my best to your mum,
I bet she remembers me well,
And maybe we'll drink to old mem'ries again, yeah,
I knew your father real well; (the ole gesser),
There was movement at the station, for the word had
passed around
That the colt from Old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses -- he was worth a
thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near
and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush
horses are,
And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.
There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won
the cup,
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly
He would go wherever horse and man could go.
And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,
No better horseman ever held the reins;
For never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths
would stand,
He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.
And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy
beast,
He was something like a racehorse undersized,
With a touch of Timor pony -- three parts thoroughbred
at least,
And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry -- just the sort that
won't say die,
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and
fiery eye,
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.
But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his
power to stay,
And the old man said, `That horse will never do
For a long and tiring gallop lad, you'd better stop
away,
Those hills are far too rough for such as you.'
So he waited sad and wistful only Clancy stood his
friend
`I think we ought to let him come,' he said;
`I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the
end,
For both his horse and he are mountain bred.
`Oh he hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side,
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,
Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint
stones every stride,
The man that holds his own is good enough.
And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their
home,
Where the river runs those giant hills between;
I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced
to roam,
But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen.'
So he went they found the horses by the big mimosa
clump,
They raced away towards the mountain's brow,
And the old man gave his orders, `Boys, go at them from
the jump,
No use to try for fancy riding now.
And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to
the right.
Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in
sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those hills.'
So Clancy rode to wheel them, he was racing on the wing
Where the best and boldest riders take their place,
And he raced his stock-horse past them, and he made the
ranges ring
With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face.
Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the
dreaded lash,
But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,
And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and
sudden dash,
And off into the mountain scrub they flew.
Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep
and black,
Resounded to the thunder of their tread,
And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely
answered back,
From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.
And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their
way,
Where kurrajong and mountain ash grew wide;
And the old man muttered fiercely, `We may bid the mob
good day,
NO man can hold them down the other side.'
When they reached the mountain's summit, even Clancy
took a pull,
It well might make the boldest hold their breath,
The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground
was full,
Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.
But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his
head,
And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,
And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down
its bed,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.
He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his
feet,
He cleared the fallen timber in his stride,
And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat,
It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.
Through the stringy barks and saplings, on the rough
and broken ground,
Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;
And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and
sound,
At the bottom of that terrible descent.
He was right among the horses as they climbed the
further hill,
And the watchers on the mountain standing mute,
Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among
them still,
As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.
Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain
gullies met
In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing
yet,
With the man from Snowy River at their heels.
And he ran them single-handed till their sides were
white with foam.
He followed like a bloodhound on their track,
Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their
heads for home,
And alone and unassisted brought them back.
But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a
trot,
He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;
But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage
fiery hot,
For never yet was mountain horse a cur.
And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars
fairly blaze,
At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,
And where around the Overflow the reedbeds sweep and
sway
To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
Oh the man from Snowy River is a household word to-day,
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.
![Dedication Mix For Dusty [Drum&Bass] *2013*](http://web.archive.org./web/20140614230919im_/http://i.ytimg.com/vi/wGFoSz8xtNw/0.jpg "Dedication Mix For Dusty [Drum&Bass] *2013*")
