Slim Dusty – Camp Cooks (Guitar)

        D                                                       A7
Well we tried 'em all the babbling brooks, the cooks and the cuckoos,

                                          D 
Between them and wilful murdrers, there's not a lot to choose,

                                   G
Oh we get 'em every season and I’m more or less resigned,

     D                                 A7                  D
When riding in for tucker, to hear the cook has pulled his time.

        A7                            D
For the flour is always weepy and the beef is always tough,

       A7                                  E         A7
And no matter what the wages are, oh, they never are enough,

     D                               G
They growl about the water, and they moan about the wood,

       D                                    A7        D
And no matter where you make the camp, it's never any good.(Grizzling so and so’s)

       D                                            A7
The offsider's always lazy and the men eat twice as much,

                                       D
As any are blokes they’ve met and your just a such as such,

                                        G
Oh the beef is always under cooked, the spuds are hard as hell,

    D                                  A7             D
And what they put in rissoles would be really hard to tell.

         A7                         D
Oh there isn't any picnic when your bullocks rush all night,

        A7                                E              A7
To come riding in when daybreak put’s the shadows all to flight,

   D                                    G
To find the billy cans are cold and the beef all boiled to rag,

    D                                      A7                  D
And when you've had your say old mate, the cook has rolled his swag.(hey!)

   D                                              A7
We only had one decent cook, he made bread like a dream,

                                       D
He made us soup and puddings with some buns for in between,

                                       G
He never moaned, he never groaned, for two days was content,

        D                                  A7                   D
Till we asked for second helpings then the barmaid snatched his rent.

   D                                                    A7
So now I've kind of had it an' when the seasons through again,

                                           D
You may look among the ringers, but you'll look for me in vain,

                                  G
For I'm sending to the city for a Mrs Beaten’s book,

    D                                       A7           D
And next year I'll get my own back, for I'm goin' out as cook.(Here we go)

   D                               G
Oh we get 'em every season and I’m more or less resigned,

     D                                 A7                  D
When riding in for tucker, to hear the cook has pulled his time.