| Oh it’s great to be back in the saddle
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| with my hand on the rough bridle rein
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| There are wild scrubbers out there to muster
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| and calves to be branded again
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| A man doesn’t know that he’s wealthy
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| till his wages are gone on a spree
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| and he once more returns to the bushland
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| where the beauty of nature is free
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| Instrumental
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| Oh, it’s great to be back on the station
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| and to ride near the clear western skies
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| where the red dingo howls from the ridges
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| to his mate as he sees me ride by
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| As day time surrenders to night time
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| and horse bells are tinkling so sweet
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| Oh I dream with my dog by the campfire
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| and my happiness is complete
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| Instrumental
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| Oh, it’s great to be back on the home run
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| from this life I will ask nothing more
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| for my home is the wild rugged bushland
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| and I’ll never walk out through the door
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| As I lay back at night in my blanket
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| and gaze at the bright starry dome
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| Oh, I thank the Almighty in Heaven
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| for giving me such a fine home
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| Oh it’s great to be back in the saddle
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| with my hand on the rough bridle rein |