Gordon Bok – On The Wallaby (Guitar)

                  D          C          G
Me tent poles are rotten, me campfire's dead

                     C             D
And the possums they ramble in the trees overhead

    G          D            C          G
I'm out on the wallaby, I'm humping me drum

                    C              D          G      C  D  G
And I come down the road where the sundowners come

                   D          C       G
It's north-west-by-west, over ranges afar

                        C              D
To the plains where the cattle and the sheep stations are

         G          D               C            G
With the sky for me blanket and the earth for me bunk

             C          D
And a calico bag for me damper and me junk

         G          D          C        G
And it's scarcely a comrade me memory reveals

                     C             D          G       C  D   G
Oh, the spirit still tingles in me toe and me heels

                   D           C            G
Now me tent is all torn and me blankets are damp

                         C           D
And the fast-rising floodwater flows down to the camp

        G          D        C             G
And the cold water rises in jets from the floor

                C         D
And I lie in me bed and I listen to it roar

      G          D             C              G
And I think of tomorrow how me footsteps will lag

                       C           D           G      C  D  G
As I tramp beneath the weight of a rain-sodden swag

                 D          C        G
But the way of a swagman is mostly uphill

                         C            D
Though there's joy to be found on the wallaby still

         G            D              C             G
When the day has gone down, with its tramp and its toil

                      C              D
And your campfire you build and your billy it can boil

            G           D            C            G
And there's comfort and peace in the bowl of your clay

                 C            D             G    C  D
Or the yarn of a mate, who is tramping your way

      G           D                C          G
But beware of the city, where it's poison for years

                  C          D
And beware of the dangers in drinking long beers

       G            D             C              G
When a bushman gets bushed in the streets of the town

                       C               D
When he's lost all his friends and his cheque's are knocked down

           G              D           C         G
Well, he's right 'til his pockets are empty and then

               C            D        G      C  D  G
He waltzes old bluey up the country again

                  D          C          G
Me tent poles are rotten, me campfire's dead

                     C             D
And the possums they ramble in the trees overhead

    G          D            C          G
I'm out on the wallaby, I'm humping me drum

                    C              D          G      C  D  G
And I come down the road where the sundowners come