| She buried him down on the edge of town
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| Where the brigalow suckers on the cemetery creep
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| She stood with them children in a heavy brown gown
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| What you want you just can’t always keep
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| «I'm sorry», I says, «I knew him so well»
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| Though your body is young you just never can tell
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| When the hand of fate rings the final death knell"
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| She just turned with the saddest of smiles
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| She says «At the start well we knewed it so hard
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| We were always dealt the severest of cards
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| Honeymoon spent droving Jamieson’s stock
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| Through the wildest winter you seen
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| Romantic notions of horses and land
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| They were soon dispelled as a fantasised dream
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| Watching cattle at night in the mid-winter cold
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| Turns a person, both wiry and old
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| The flame of the breakfast fire’d be dead
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| As the sun rose up he’d be miles up ahead
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| I’d be breaking the camp there and rolling the beds
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| While he fanned the stock wider for feed
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| When the weather turned sour with the onset of rain
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| An' the truck’d bog down to the axle mains
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| He’d move ahead with pack saddles and chains
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| And I’d wait in the mud by the road
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| With the blankets and canvas there hung out to dry
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| With nothing for heat 'cause you couldn’t light a fire
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| With no stock permit for the forthcoming shire
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| The dog’d whimper in the winter wind rain
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| Cattle don’t camp where they’re sloshing in rain
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| They keep walking all night like a dog on a chain
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| He’d be red eyed and weary with a pack horse gone lame
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| I’d sit miles behind in the mud
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| It was down through Charleville up to Julia Creek
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| Living on syrup and damper and salted corn meat
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| We had nothing but the ‘roos and the mailman to meet
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| We’d move up and down with the rains
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| But them inland skies have the starriest of nights
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| With the dance of the fire throwing flickering lights
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| The beauty of it’s sunsets were a constant delight
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| I felt that nature had let me intrude
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| The enormous vastness of them inland plains
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| Gives you a lonely contentment to which you can’t put a name
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| It’s satisfied glow city folks seldom attain
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| They spend life on a right rigid rail
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| The kids got their schooling from the government mail
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| We posted their work in at each cattle sale
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| They considered the learning a self imposed jail
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| They’d rather help their father and fail
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| Early last month at the end of the dry
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| He was given a horse nobody could ride
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| Alert were his ears with a fire in his stride
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| He was young and his spirit was wild
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| To catch him each morning was an hour long battle
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| We had to collar rope his near side to throw on the saddle
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| He’d bite and he’d strike, he made my nerves rattle
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| Pandemonium reigned with each ride
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| It was a hot summers' mornin' at the government bore
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| There was stillness around that I’d never felt before
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| How could he know it was fate at his door
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| That was stealthily watchin' his moves
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| He mounted up quick taking slack from the reins
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| Grasped a full hand of hair from the horses long mane
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| He’d just hit the saddle when the horse went insane
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| Churning dust in a frenzy of fear
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| The girth on the saddle let go at the ring
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| The surcingle slipped it was impossible to cling
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| The horse felt it go made a desperate fling
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| He was thrown to the length of the reins
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| I heard his spine snap like a ‘roo shooters' shot
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| He’d busted his back on the concreted trough
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| Sickness and fear were the feelings I got
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| For the doctor was a six hour drive
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| I looked at his face and his colour turned white
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| He turned slowly and said «I can’t make it till night
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| My body is broken, I’m bleedin' inside»
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| And the life slowly drained from his eyes
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| I’ll sell up the plant and I’ll move here to town
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| Before the winter returns with a chill on the ground
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| For what I’ve just lost can seldom be found
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| I was blessed with the gentlest of men
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| Eventually the children will move to the east
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| But I couldn’t stand the bustle of even a quiet city street
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| I’ll stay in the scrub here where my heart really beats
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| For some dogs grow too old for change. |