| I’ve got a pretty big load on a bitumen road
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| And the needle’s on 110
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| Got a big mob of wheels and a whole lot of steers
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| Rolling 'cross the Top End
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| Rollin' 'cross the Top End
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| In a supercharged computerized Benz
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| I used to ride over this track as a drover
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| But I’m not gonna do it again
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| No I’m not gonna do it again
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| Got the cool air a-blowing and the CD a-going
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| And a cooler full of lemonade, too
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| Not like it was when we walked the big mobs
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| Way the hell down the Barcoo
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| Way the hell down the Barcoo
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| Had the rot and the sandy blight too
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| Weevils in the flour and the cook gettin' sour
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| Way the hell down the Barcoo
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| Yeah way the the hell down the Barcoo (that's right)
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| Now my old ringer mates were shown the bush gates when the choppers and bikes
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| came along
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| The hobbles and bell rung out the death knell
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| An old way of life dead and gone
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| Oh, an old way of life dead and gone
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| But a man’s gotta keep moving on
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| So they recycled me, made a truckie out of me
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| Now I gotta keep moving on
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| Hey I gotta keep this rig rolling on
|
| Got a pretty big load on a bitumen road
|
| And the needle’s on 110
|
| Got a big mob of wheels and a whole lot of steers
|
| Rolling 'cross the Top End
|
| Hey rollin' 'cross the Top End, yeah |