Sorry. I had to join a site to access what I thought might have the song you seek. WRONG SONG! However, here's it is, anyway.

END OF THE CANNING STOCK ROUTE
Words by Peter Muir. Music by Slim Dusty.

INTRO: G D G

1. [G] The camp gear's in the store room. All the packs are in the shed
With the [C] dust of seven summers on their [G] hide.
Saddle straps are hard and brittle. Stirrup irons are rusty red,
For the [A7] Canning Stock Route finished when Wally Dowling [D] died.
No more [G] cattle travel southward thro' the spinifex and sand.
All the [C] wells are falling in along the [G] track.
Now the Canning’s but a [B7] legend, just a [C] lonely desert land,
And it's [G] doubtful if the [D] Munjongs want it [G] back.

2. Eight hundred miles of sandhills, now and then a sandstone ridge
With a salt lake here and there with samphire flat;
An oasis in the desert you can find at Durba Springs
Bubbling, running water, it's a fact
But unless you own a camel, you could never travel there,
And a horse would fail now the wells have fallen in,
For the sandhills on the Canning reach a hundred feet or more
And it's certain that no car could take you in.

3. The famous Never Never and the place they call Outback,
Two elusive lands that few men ever found,
Are located on the Canning down that lonely desert track,
Where to be this very moment would be worth a thousand pound.
To be with Wally Dowling, whipping water from the well,
While the stockmen hold the mob back from the trough,
Stop the thirsty bullocks trampling in their great desire to drink,
Just to do one trip would suit me well enough.

4. But my wish is just a daydream which can never be fulfilled,
For when Wally died the stock route had its day.
Now the Billiluna cattle are travelling down to Broome
In a roaring diesel road train to the meat works by the bay.
And the tick line stops the others, every station in the north.
No one may use the Canning if he would.
So they truck their beef to Wyndham and sell for what its worth,
And I doubt they'd use the Canning if they could.

5. It's really had its day now and won't be used again.
No more drovers’ horse bells ringin' will be heard,
For a cattle loaded road train smothered in its diesel fumes
Now struggles up the rise in lower third.
When I travel up the Canning I am sure to be alone
With my camels and some thoughts of yesterday.
They will take me slowly northward till at last the trip is done,
And find contentment when I’ve stowed the packs away.

Repeat verse 1 and fade.