Had been here for donkey's years, in drought, flood, & bushfire fear Been married with great cheer, to the young daughter of the Overseer
Told of never giving up beer, thought that question was a bit queer
Passed the hotel, and there was a cheer, no he had never known fear

When he said he'd met Davy Crockett, do I laugh or simply knock it
Could ride the chain off any sprocket, his wife wore a golden locket
Was quick to a shout, like a rocket, but had the most deepest pocket
Handy in the ring, all mocked it, then finding that he could sock it

Had driven coaches for Cobb & Co, rode with Clancy Of The Overflow Was'nt much he did'nt know, had walked from Nyngan to see the snow
Born in the old town of Brigalow, where he learnt to talk to crows
All the time the bullshit flowed, his happy face continued to glow

Finally came the time to move on, way out far to the back of beyond
He duly offered to tag along, but the temptation was not very strong
This is where you really belong, teller of tales, and a good song
The finding of Gas, brings a new throng, in their shorts & thongs

I've retired from the old bush tracks, but the memories do come back
Old saddle smells, and whipping cracks, the rickety outriders shacks
All the men, both white and black, who toiled hard but never cracked
Where old stringybark sacks, were walkedabout to the mussel stacks

Be a good place to visit the old drifters bay