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.