Slim Dusty - Old Scobie lyrics

rate me

For a starter of description just to get the picture right

Bowlegged, bold and lively, 5 foot 8 or 9 in height

Of stocky build, complexion dark, his age slow on the rise

A smiling face and light grey hair and pale blue western eyes

A tough old stag he rolled his swag when itchy feet took over

His place of birth? Well I dunno wether Mitchell grass or clover

But I kinda get the notion as I carry on this ride

It was somewhere in the sand hills near the channel country side

Oh hell make your bloody hair stand up with something that occurred

And so unrealistic that at first you doubt his word

Every story is a boomer full of action, laughs and strength

Why hed stretch the Diamantina or the Cooper twice their length

For years he was a drover in the days of bells and packs

From the Canning to the Murranji and down the Birdsville track

He was reared on ribs and brisket; dont go in for fancy stuff

And I guess thats just the reason hes so rugged hard and rough

When he rides around the cattle restless nights as black as ink

Summer nights or freezing winter Scobie loves a rum to drink

Oh Id like to have the money that hes spent on booze and games

I could buy a cattle station and a brewery with the change

Half Australias coloured stockmen, thats including women too

Will remember this codger when their boomerangs were new

They rode through scrub and lignum where a dog could never bark

Flushing out defiant mickies, missing none though it was dark

Yeah for years he was a drover in the days of bells and packs

From the Canning to the Murranji and down the Birdsville track

He was reared on ribs and brisket; dont go in for fancy stuff

And I guess thats just the reason hes so rugged hard and rough

When hes drinking in the city townies grip the bar and laugh

Hes a drover just delivered sand goannas all in calf

And when he tells a tall one, its Kosciusko high

Then quickly change direction and almost make you cry

When the Southern Cross and diamond tail at night illuminate

I often think of Scobie waitin outside heavens gate

With his saddlebag and quartpot and branding iron worn thin

Oh Ill bet hell con St Peter and the old man lets him in