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Old Scobie - Slim Dusty |
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For a starter of description just to get the picture right |
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Bowlegged bold and lively 5 foot 8 or 9 in height |
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Of stocky build complexion dark his age slow on the rise |
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A smiling face and light grey hair and pale blue western eyes |
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A tough old stag he rolled his swag when itchy feet took over |
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His place of birth |
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Well I don't know wether Mitchell grass or clover |
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But I kinda get the notion as I carry on this ride |
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It was somewhere in the sand hills near the channel country side |
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Oh he'll make your bloody hair stand up with something that occurred |
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And so unrealistic that at first you doubt his word |
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Every story is a boomer full of action laughs and strength |
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Why hed stretch the Diamantina or the Cooper twice their length |
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For years he was a drover in the days of bells and packs |
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From the Canning to the Murranji and down the Birdsville track |
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He was reared on ribs and brisket don't go in for fancy stuff |
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And I guess that's just the reason he's so rugged hard and rough |
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When he rides around the cattle restless nights as black as ink |
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Summer nights or freezing winter Scobie loves a rum to drink |
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Oh I'd like to have the money that he's spent on booze and games |
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I could buy a cattle station and a brewery with the change |
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Half Australias coloured stockmen that's including women too |
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Will remember this codger when their boomerangs were new |
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They rode through scrub and lignum where a dog could never bark |
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Flushing out defiant mickies missing none though it was dark |
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Yeah for years he was a drover in the days of bells and packs |
| [02:21.12] |
From the Canning to the Murranji and down the Birdsville track |
| [02:25.90] |
He was reared on ribs and brisket don't go in for fancy stuff |
| [02:30.67] |
And I guess that's just the reason he's so rugged hard and rough |
| [02:44.70] |
When he's drinking in the city townies grip the bar and laugh |
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He's a drover just delivered sand goannas all in calf |
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And when he tells a tall one it's Kosciusko high |
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Then quickly change direction and almost make you cry |
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When the Southern Cross and diamond tail at night illuminate |
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I often think of Scobie waitin' outside heavens gate |
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With his saddlebag and quartpot and branding iron worn thin |
| [03:21.55] |
Oh I'll bet he'll con St. Peter and the old man let's him in |
