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Camping under the leopard wood |
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As the sun goes down and the fire is good |
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Cause I've managed to find myself some brigalow |
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And it wouldn't be the same I know |
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Contemplating the fire glow |
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Without my darlin' out here on the road |
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Now it's a very special thing |
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To hear the little crickets sing |
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And there's no need to say another word |
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Just watch the campfire steal the show |
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And let the inner feelings flow |
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Release the tension out here on the road |
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We must never let 'em take this life away |
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Old stock routes belong to one and all |
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Drovers, dreamers all agree, poets, Aborigines |
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We have a right to light a campfire on the road |
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Some people like a river bed |
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With river gums high overhead |
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Unroll the swag on a drift of river sand |
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But me I search for different sites |
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I'm not afraid of Min Min lights |
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And I welcome spirits out here on the road |
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And I welcome many signs I see |
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In a land that's been so good to me |
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That lead me to the soul of inner man |
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And I can tell you there are days |
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I see the earth in different ways |
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That keep me searching out here on the road |