a. l. lloyd – the overlanders lyrics
oh, there’s a trade you all know well, it’s bringing cattle over
i’ll tell yous all about the time that i became a drover
i wanted stock for queensland to kempsey i did wander
i bought amount of duffers there and began as an overlander
[chorus]
so p-ss the bottle round, me boys, don’t you leave it stand there
for tonight we’ll drink the health of every overlander
well, when the cattle were counted and the outfit ready to start
the lads were all a-mounted with their swags up in the cart
i saw i had all sorts of men from germany, france and flanders
lawyers, doctors, good and bad in the mob of overlanders
the very next morning i fed up where the gr-ss was green and young
and the squatter said he’d break my snout if i didn’t push along
says i, “my lad you’re very hard but don’t you raise my dander
for i’m a regular knowing card, i’m a queensland overlander.”
they swore they didn’t pound my cattle but i fooled them all the time
they very seldom caught us and they never got their fine
they think we live on store beef but i’m no flamin’ gander
“if a fat little stray comes our way he’ll do,” says the overlander
if ever our horses get done up of course we turn ’em free
and you can’t expect a drover to walk if a pony he can see
so now and then we bone a prad and believe me it’s no slander
to say there’s many a clever trick done by an overlander
now i would scourn to prig a shirt ’tis all me mates can say
but if we p-ss through a township all on a washing day
the dirty brats of kids would shout, and quickly raise me dander
crying, “mother quick, take in the clothes, here comes an overlander.”
in town we drain the whiskey gl-ss and go to see the play
we never think of being hard up nor how to spend the day
we shear up to them pretty girls who rig themselves with grandeur
and as long as we spend our cheques, me lads, they love the overlander
a little girl in sydney side, she said, “don’t leave me lonely.”
i said, “it’s sad but my old prad has room for one man only.”
so now, my lads, we’re jogging on, this pony she’s a goer
we’ll pick up a job with a crawling mob along the maranoa
[chorus]
so p-ss the bottle round, me boys, don’t you leave it stand there
for tonight we’ll drink the health of every overlander
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