Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song An Independent Bloke, artist - Slim Dusty. Album song The Man Who Steadies The Lead, in the genre Поп
Date of issue: 31.12.1991
Record label: EMI Recorded Music Australia
Song language: English
An Independent Bloke |
Yeah, he was a real dried up old gravel voiced bushie this feller |
Wonder where he is now? |
I was standin' in line all the mornin' |
To answer an ad that I saw |
Regarding the job on the council |
There was me and quite a few more |
A dried up ole bushie before me |
Pulled a battered old tin from his coat |
And from fine cut and Tally Ho papers |
Proceeded to roll up a smoke |
A hairy young man in the office |
Rapped on the desk and said next |
The old feller stepped up before him |
And gave him his name and address |
And the hairy one asked of the old bloke |
If he had any reference to show |
If he’d ever done manual labour |
Or had experience out on the road |
The old feller reared up and snorted |
And the cigarette hung from his lip |
His hat was pushed back on his forehead |
His hands they were firm on his hips |
He looked the young feller all over |
Took in the mode of his dress |
The peaches and creamy complexion |
And I felt that he wasn’t impressed |
Then he pushed a big hairy paw under |
The young feller’s lily white nose |
Slowly he spread out his fingers, hey |
Said take a gander at those |
These are my reference for working |
I was at it before you were born |
And I’ll bet you a quid even money |
I’ll be at it long after you’re gone, you mug |
I’ve played the mad pick and the banjo |
Done many a season in cane |
I’ve worn out a dozen good kellys |
While fencing out there on the plain |
I’ve worked for my board and my lodgings |
In conditions you’d not understand |
And by hell I’ve brought in some good money |
With these very same battered old hands |
Experience out on the roadway |
Is something I learned all about |
When the banker foreclosed on the mortgage |
Just after the '65 drought |
I rolled up my swag and departed |
A sorry but much wiser man |
With only my memories to show for |
The years that I’d spent on the land |
So I tramped and I travelled the highways |
And in bitterness cursed every mile |
But in time I got over my troubles |
And learned once again how to smile |
It’s the likes of you pen pushing gentry |
To bring out the laughter in me |
You little tin gods of the office ha ha |
You’re too pumped with power to see |
Then with a good old Australian expression |
We were left in no doubt what he meant |
He turned on his heel and he left us |
And God only knows where he went |