| I was drinking here one evening said the old man with a grin
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| And everything was peaceful til some ringer blokes came in
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| There were four of them in number and they seemed to be half full
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| And they were arguing on how to throw and tie a scrubber bull
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| Well they talked of cattle camps from Bourke to Anthony Lagoon
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| And they talked of runnin' scrubbers ‘neath the glimmer of the moon
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| And they talked of ridin' buckers when the subject turned to fights
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| And by this time said the old man they were gettin' pretty tight
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| Oh yeah
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| Just then the fighting shearer from the Lachlan came around
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| He had five mates behind him but the ringers stood their ground
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| The shearers had been drinking on the far end of the bar and
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| They’d been shearing lambs and wethers and were calling out for tar
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| They’d been cursin' cooks and rousies and the experts left and right
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| When they heard the ringers cooee and the subject turned to fight
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| Then a deadly calm descended like the lull before a storm
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| Which erupted like a cyclone as the fighters showed their form
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| Oh that’s right!
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| Oh the presser punched a moment with the tallest of the four
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| Till the lanky bloke connected and he crumpled to the floor
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| Then lanky aimed a beauty at the nearest shearers chin
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| But a king hit from the sideline put the long one in a spin
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| When an innocent bystander sought an exit to the door
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| He was trampled with the blood and glass and beer upon the floor
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| Just then the worried barman hollered out with all his might
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| Are you crazy lot of blighters here to drink or here to fight!
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| Oh that’s right!
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| They were battered bruised and winded so they gathered round the bar
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| ‘Cept the innocent bystander who went limping to his car
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| Oh the good old days have vanished in the darkness and the gloom
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| In the wake of modern tourists and this might mineral boom
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| For the dinkum Aussie bushmen are a slowly dyin' race
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| And it hurts me when I see the type that come to take their place
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| So I come here every evening and I sit and reminisce
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| ‘Cos another blue like that one is a thing I’d hate to miss
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| Oh yeah
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| I was drinking here one evening said the old man with a grin
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| And everything was peaceful til some ringer blokes came in |