| Texas Jack, you are amusin', great Lord Harry, how I laughed
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| When I seen your rig and saddle with its bulwarks fore-and-aft
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| Holy smoke! |
| In such a saddle how the dickens can ya fall?
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| Why, I’ve seen a gal ride bareback with no bridle on at all!
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| How I’d like to see a bushman use yer fixins, Texas Jack
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| On the remnant of a saddle he can ride to hell and back
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| Why, I’ve heard a mother cheerin' when her kid went tossin' by
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| Ridin' bareback on a bucker that had murder in his eye
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| You may talk about your ridin' in the city, bold an' free
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| Talk o' ridin' in the city, Texas Jack, but where’d you’d be
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| When the stock horse snorts an' bunches all 'is quarters in a hump
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| And the saddle climbs a sapling, an' the horse-shoes split a stump?
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| No, before you teach the natives you must ride without a fall
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| Up a gum or down a gully nigh as steep as any wall
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| You must swim the roarin' Darling when the flood is at its height
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| Bearin' down the stock an' stations to the Great Australian Bight
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| You can’t count the bulls an' bisons that you copped with your lassoo
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| But a stout old Myall bullock perhaps could learn you somethin' new
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| You had better make your will an' leave your papers neat an' trim
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| Before you make arrangements for the lassooin' of him
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| As you say you’re death on Injuns! |
| We’ve got somethin' in your line
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| If yer think your fightin’s equal to the likes of Tommy Ryan
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| Take your carcass up to Queensland where the alligators chew
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| And the carpet-snake is handy with his tail for a lassoo
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| Ride across the hazy regins where the lonely emus wail
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| An' ye’ll find the dark’ll track yer while yer lookin' for his trail
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| He can track yer without stoppin' for a thousand miles or more
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| Come again, and he will show yer where yer spat the year before
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| But you’d best be mighty careful, you’ll be sorry you came here
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| When you’re skewered to the fragments of your saddle with a spear
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| When the boomerang is sailin' in the air, then heaven help ya!
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| It will cut yer head off goin', an' come back again and scalp ya!
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| Texas Jack, you are amusin', great Lord Harry, how I laughed
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| When I seen your rig and saddle with its bulwarks fore-an'-aft;
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| Holy smoke! |
| In such a saddle how the dickens can ya fall?
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| Why, I’ve seen a gal ride bareback with no bridle on at all! |