Another little ripper from the Duke.

THE GOOSE-NECK SPURS
(Duke Tritton)

I’ve been in lots of trouble, I’ve been in tons of strife
But the fix I was in at the Shingle Hut was the toughest of my life
I’d dumped a mob of weaners at a place called Leaning Gum
I sang a ditty to my horse, ‘Oh, Sydney here I come'

But I pulled up at the Shingle Hut, a little wayside pub
Tired of mutton and damper, I wanted some decent grub
The barmaid was a buxom lass, I thought her very nice
You wouldn’t think to look at her, but her heart was made of ice

I handed her my hard-earned cheque, it was over fifty quid
There was a quick gleam in her eye, but her thoughts she quickly hid
She smiled at me so sweetly and said, 'It’s getting late
I cannot cash your cheque today, now would you care to wait?'

'My husband won’t be home tonight, so stay you really must
I’d feel much safer with you here, for you’re a man I’d trust'
Then away went all my chances of seeing Sydney town
For that barmaid was a trimmer at lambing fellows down

I had one drink, or maybe two, I’m sure it was no more,
And I came to in the ‘dead house’, feeling sick and sore.
It was the barmaid woke me, with the toe of her little shoe
'Get out!', she said, 'you drunken mug, three days is enough for you'

A big bloke stood behind her, a nasty looking brute
I was too crook for brawling or I’d have jobbed the coot
And the barmaid said, 'Your cheque’s cut out, you’d better make a shift
Here is a bottle for the road, it is my parting gift'

'All right', I said, 'I’ll get my horse, tonight I’ll travel far'
'Oh no!', she laughed, 'you can’t do that, your horse has jumped the bar'
And so it had, my saddle too, likewise my swag and dog
No doubt she had me cornered like a possum in a log

I wandered off into the scrub, I heard a dingo calling
And soon I knew that I was lost and a heavy frost was falling
I opened up the bottle and had a swig of rum,
It hit me like a hammer, my legs went weak and numb

I knew that I had been stung again, my head went round and round
I thought I saw the barmaid before I hit the ground
And I awoke ‘neath a barbed-wire fence in a patch of Bathurst burrs
With nothing to cover my freezing hide but a pair of goose-neck spurs

You can hear Duke Tritton sing his song and read a piece by Warren Fahey about 'lambing down' here:

Click

You can also find recordings on Bob Rummery 'The Man with the Concertina' and Alan Musgrave & His Watsaname Band 'Behind the Times'.

--Stewie.