^^^ There's a trade we all know well,
It's bringing cattle over;
On the Northeast track, to the Gulf and back,
Men know the Queensland drover.
Cho: Pass the billy 'round, me boys,
Don't let the pint pot stand there,
For tonight we'll drink the health
Of every Overlander.
There are men from every land,
From Spain and France and Flanders;
We're a well-mixed pack, both white and black,
Men call the Overlanders.
I come frome the northern plains,
Where the girls and grass are scanty;
Where the streams run dry or ten feet high
And there's either drought or plenty.
When we've earned a spree in town,
We live like kings in clover,
And a whole month's check goes down the neck
Of many a Queensland drover.
As I pass along the way,
The children raise my dander,
Saying, "Mother dear, take in the clothes,
Here comes an Overlander."
There many be some inaccuracies here, since I am doing it from memory and can't find the tape. Gordon Bok also recored it; this is his version.