The trail was thick with bities and the billabong was high
me mates were all a yabbering 'bout the price of meat
The cavvy horses trotted right on course, nothing seemed awry
the jiger boss yelled "Buckeroos! git that stray dogie to teat!"
Old Bluey barks to say G'Day as he helps the boys to muster
all the new calves to the bank, away from the duffers.
A camp fire smokes and Cookie clucks wrapped up in his duster
as Hoodlum sits a peeling spuds dreaming of his mother.
The suns gone down like a gob smacked floozie behind the range.
At last, it seems, we're ending another dusty day.
The night hawks giddyuped, there are bedrolls amongst the sage,
yet were' not within a cooee of the end of an Aussie's play.