Gundabooka Sam
Gundabooka Sam
Old Sam squats at Gundabooka
Somewhere out the back of Bourke,
He lives in a shanty hut,
Doesn't seem to do much work,
He wears rope-held trousers
And a long-john undershirt,
His crumpled hat's seen better days
Always covered in red dirt.
Old Sam he has a kookie
That sits upon his hat,
It always laughs its loudest
When Sam reaches for a pat,
He also has a hairy-nose
That follows him around,
That is when that wombat's
Not digging in the ground.
Sam, Sam, from Gundabooka
Always quick with an outback yarn,
Tells tales of outback men
And how some came to harm,
You can hear his raucous laugh
When he cracks a bush joke,
Rolling, rollicking, frolicking,
He's one hell of a squatting bloke.
Sam’s hair and beard are quite red
Although the locals aren’t quite sure,
If it’s just where the red dust gathered,
Maybe they were black well before,
The time he came to live
In his Gundabooka shack,
So far off the beaten path
Even the boomerangs don’t come back.
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