| In the wind and rain of the winter and no glimmer of the sun
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| We leave the south behind us in that welcome northern run
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| New motor just been fitted and she’s barking from her stack
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| A snarling Detroit diesel underneath this big old Mack
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| There’s bull lights on her bumper and new chroming on her stack
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| Her reconditioned gearbox has really brought her back
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| New booster on her intake and her head is made to suit
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| And when I hold her open, holy Moses, can she scoot
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| She’s a road train
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| Geared for the open road and the inland highways
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| Known to the rugged north and the dusty byways
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| Big old Mack
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| Two weeks too long away from all that diesel oil and grime
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| Tonight we’ll see the sun go down across that borderline
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| There’s lots to do, old girl
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| And we’ve no time to sleep
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| Your big repairs have left me broke and you’ve gotta earn your keep
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| We’re rolling up the highway all the blues are in our wake
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| The bogey wheels are humming to a good old country tape
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| Two trailers on we dare to pass the truckies gasp in awe
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| We’re sailing round their modern trucks half throttle to the floor
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| She knows that golden highway and she knows old golden hill
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| And the endless blue horizon on the road to Camoowheel
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| She knows that sunset country where the wedge tailed eagle soars
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| And the unforgiving distance of the lonely Nullarbor
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| She’s a road train
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| Geared for the open road and the inland highways
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| Known to the rugged north and the dusty byways
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| Oh, big old Mack, big old Mack |