| Spoken
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| Whoa Bullocks, whoa there
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| Sung
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| Singing Whoa Bullocks, whoa bullocks, whoa bullocks whoa
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| Bringing in the gidgee for they’re itching for to go
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| Whoa Bullocks, whoa bullocks, whoa bullocks whoa
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| Hold up the lead, keep them moving nice and slow
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| They’re a wild touchy mob from the gulf country run
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| And they’ll give us lots of action 'ere this roving trip is done
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| Each time they make a break, there’s a call for reckless speed
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| To hold back the scrubbers racing madly in the lead
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| Singing Whoa Bullocks, whoa bullocks, whoa bullocks whoa
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| Hold up the lead, keep them moving nice and slow
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| When we counted out the yard, there were two thousand head
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| Two thousand bullocks all Gulf country bred
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| A hundred miles behind us and a thousand more to go
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| 'Til we truck 'em at the border where the Darling River flows
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| Singing Whoa Bullocks, whoa bullocks, whoa bullocks whoa
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| Hold up the lead, keep them moving nice and slow
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| There’s not too many left of the old droving school
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| And these Gulf country cattle can’t be handled by a fool
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| So give 'em room to spread boys and let 'em feed along
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| And hold up the lead boys if anything goes wrong
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| With your Whoa Bullocks, whoa bullocks, whoa bullocks whoa
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| Hold up the lead, keep them moving nice and slow
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| There’s a long drive ahead, 'fore we hit the final town
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| And the boss drover’s worries can really get him down
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| You watch 'em on the nightcamp when they’re ready for to leap
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| Why they’ve even got me watching and a-droving in my sleep
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| Singing Whoa Bullocks, whoa bullocks, whoa bullocks whoa
|
| Bringing in the gidgee for they’re itching for to go
|
| Whoa Bullocks, whoa bullocks, whoa bullocks whoa
|
| Hold up the lead, keep them moving nice and slow
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| Moving Nice and slow
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| Moving Nice and slow
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| Spoken
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| Whoa Bullocks, whoa there you bullocks |