| I’ve played this old guitar of mine from Adelaide to Cairns,
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| Singin' songs the people like to hear,
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| Stories of Australia and it’s rugged countryside,
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| Written by the old bush balladeers.
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| Their stories of Australia, will be forever green,
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| Their characters can still be found today,
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| There will always be a 'Sweeney' or a 'Man from Ironbark',
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| Or someone who has fallen by the way.
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| The history of Australia is laid out for all to see,
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| In the heritage of words they left behind,
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| And they wrote of joys and sorrows and the comedies of life,
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| And they cared a lot for leaders and the line.
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| Hey
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| There was Adam Lindsay Gordon, set our style of ballad goin',
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| And I lift my hat to Ogilvy and all,
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| To the 'Banjo' and the 'Breaker' an' Henry Lawson too,
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| Quite anonymous was often best of all.
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| And still the pens are flowing all the papers here and there,
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| As some modern scribe records his daily life,
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| And perhaps you’ll see him sittin' by a fireside quietly picking,
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| A tune to suit the ballad that he writes.
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| Balladeers of Australia I dips my lid to you,
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| Your memory I dedicate this song,
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| You can tell a simple story in a special kind of way,
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| And a style of verse how writers carry on,
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| Balladeers of Australia, I dips my lid to you,
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| To your memory, I dedicate this song |