Slim Dusty – Gates (Guitar)

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Saint Peter put his quart pot down and rubbed his saintly eyes

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As through the clouds a figure bowed, pursued by swarms of flies

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Came tramping up to heaven's gate and stood there in amaze

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then dropped his swag and tuckerbag and said "well, spare me days"

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"Now I've humped this old matilda from the age of seventeen

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And there’s not a track in the great outback, that us two haven't seen

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So, when I rolled final swag, I thought I'd clean the slate

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But stone the crows, before my nose I sees another gate

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In fifty years of trampin' and covering all the while

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Twelve miles a day at least with two gates to the mile

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Now I'm not much good at figures but the way I calculates

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In my career I've opened near on fifty thousand gates

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There was gates that fairly haunts me, there was gates of every sort

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Saggin' gates and draggin' gates, high, low, long and short

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And gates that seem to challenge you, and gates that seem to cringe

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Lazy gates and crazy gates, that hung be half a hinge

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Gates tied up with fencin' wire and gates with fancy scrolls

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With patent catch and homemade latch and gates made out of poles

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Wide gates and narrow gates,  big barriers and small

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Rusted gates and busted gates, I've wrestled with them all

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Oh, I've opened, and I've shut em, till the sight all i hate

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And I'd sooner miss your heavenly bliss then open that there gate

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what’s that you say, you'll open up for me, well that’s what I call nice

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And close her too when I get through, well this must be paradise."