| Big Bill Smith was rough and tough as a mining man could be
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| And he said I’ll blaze a trail right down those ranges to the sea
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| And Big Bill Smith he did just that, when he found the Barron River
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| Where the myall blacks and crocodiles, would set your bones a shiver
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| Then he said I’ve dug too long for gold I’ll find it the easy way
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| And he built a pub there in the scrub where Smithfield is today
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| The Thornborough miners dug their gold and the packers brought it down
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| And they quenched their thirst in Big Bill’s bar right there in Big Bill’s town
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| Well the traders came and built a town and they named it after Bill
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| Then the gamblers and the women came their pockets for to fill
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| The gold came down and Smithfield boomed and a roaring town it was
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| And it’s even said that Big Bill’s horse, with golden shoes were shod
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| Big Bill was king of Smithfield town and Palmer Kate was queen
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| And the only god they knew came down the range in a golden stream
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| The wickedest town in Australia was its dubious claim to fame
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| And the things they did for a bag of gold, would put the devil himself to shame
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| And the myall blacks looked on with awe as the white men died in fights
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| For a bag of gold or the favours of a woman for the night
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| And Big Bill met his death that way out in that muddy street
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| He traded lead for a bag of gold, and Big Bill Smith was beat
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| Oh they buried Bill there in the scrub and they drank his hotel dry
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| Was the grandest wake they’d ever had the day that Big Bill died
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| Yes Big Bill died and his town did too in the face of old man flood
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| For the Barron River it took the lot, and buried it deep in mud
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| Oh there’s nought to see of the old town now for they never rebuilt it there
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| And I’ll bet the ghost of Big Bill Smith is still around somewhere
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| And if you see that sign on the northern road and you’re thinking about this
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| tale
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| Well spare a thought for Big Bill Smith, and the men who blazed the trail |