| They’re greasin' up their leather gear in the stockcamps of the North
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| Young ringers come all set for musterin' time
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| As for me I’m in the big shed workin' on a tough old lady
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| This yellow old bullcatcher love of mine
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| Dust clouds are risin' high into the northern sky
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| With the big boss up above with his noisy chopper
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| But I’m in touch by phone as we head the big mob home
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| I circle round and round in the old bullcatcher
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| An old devil, mate, to drive, but she keeps your mind alive
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| When the steering gear goes, look out she’ll get ya
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| When a mad bull breaks away, that’s when we show our play
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| And bring 'em back to the yellow old bullcatcher
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| (Look out now!)
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| There’s a bush camp by the river where the fight like hell
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| And the crocodiles, old mate, ain’t far behind
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| But I can’t wait to get back
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| Down that dusty rugged track
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| And yakka with some old bush mates of mine
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| Oh there’s new times on the bull bar
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| And sides of solid steel
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| When you’re workin' in the bush no one can match her
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| When a mad bull breaks away, that’s when we show our play
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| And bring 'em back to the yellow old bullcatcher
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| Hey, we bring 'em back to the yellow old bullcatcher
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| (That's right) |