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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Spent all day cleaning up my car for a trip to Broken Hill. Serviced, oiled and greased. The petrol tank is filled. Left Adelaide for the open road; sun setting in the west. An orange sky slowly dies; stars are soon addressed. Country music on my radio; the white line passes by. Now and then there's a bend helping to clear my mind. Through wheat fields; mallee scrub - across a saltbush plain. The tar is mine I'm all alone - in a second comes the pain. Hoppity kick and on the road a big and getting bigger Roo. I've got brains and I've got brakes but there's nothing I can do. It's an awesome sight in headlights, heading for my grille What makes me sad and hopping mad is another road kill. I'd like to say I drove away and the Roo had up and went, but my radiators hissing steam; my bonnet's badly bent. The poor old Roo is lying dead on the shoulder of the road. I get a lift with a cockie’s son who laughs ‘well I'll be blowed.’ Hoppity kick and on the road a big and getting bigger Roo. I've got brains and I've got brakes but there's nothing I can do. It's an awesome sight in headlights, heading for my grille What makes me sad and hopping mad is another road kill. If you’re driving through the outback where roads look clear ahead, take notice of the kangaroos that you see laying dead. They don't hop from the scrub with intentions they may die, but if they do, they'll take you too - and every Roo will try. Hoppity kick and on the road a big and getting bigger Roo. I've got brains and I've got brakes but there's nothing I can do. It's an awesome sight in headlights, heading for my grille What makes me sad and hopping mad is another road kill.
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