Slim Dusty – Old Scobie (Guitar)

      C                              D
For a starter up description just to get the picture right

   G7                              C
Bowlegged, bold and lively, 5 foot 8 or 9 in height.

   F                                  C                 Am
Of stocky build, complexion dark, his age well long the rise

  G7                                                     C
A smiling face and light grey hair and pale blue western eyes.

  C                                       D
A tough old stag, he rolled his swag when itchy feet took over.

    G7                                       C
His place of birth? Well, I dunno, where the Mitchell grass or clover

      F                         C             Am
But I kinda get the notion as I carry on this scribe.

       G7                                                  C
It was somewhere in the sand hills near the channel countryside.

          C                                   D
Oh, he'll make your bloody hair stand up with something that occurred.

    G7                     C
And so unrealistic that at first you doubt his word.

      F                         C                  Am
Every story is a boomer full of action, laughs and strength.

       G7                                                 C
Why he stretched the Diamantina or the Cooper twice their length.

    F                            C
For years he was a drover in the days of bells and packs

         F                           C                   G7
From the Canning to the Murranji and down the Birdsville track.

       F                                    C            Am
He was reared on ribs and brisket; don't go in for fancy stuff.

      G7                                                   C
And I guess that's just the reason he's so rugged hard and rough.

F                              G7                         C
    yeah, he's rough alright,      like my guitar playin'

        C                                D
When he rides around the cattle restless nights as black as ink

       G7                                C
Summer nights or freezing winter, Scobie loves a rum to drink.

        F                                C                  Am
Oh, I'd like to have the money that he's spent on booze and games.

        G7                                          C
I could buy a cattle station and a brewery with the change.

     C                                       D
Half Australia's coloured stockmen, that's including women too

     G7                                  C
Will remember this old codger when their boomerangs were new.

     F                                     C               Am
They rode through scrub and lignum where a dog could never bark,

         G7                                              C
Flushing out defiant mickies, missing none though it was dark.

          F                            C
Yeah, for years he was a drover in the days of bells and packs

         F                           C                   G7
From the Canning to the Murranji and down the Birdsville track.

       F                                    C            Am
He was reared on ribs and brisket; don't go in for fancy stuff.

      G7                                                   C
And I guess that's just the reason he's so rugged hard and rough.

F                    G7                               C
Here I go again now,  all these fancy guitar runs mmmmhmmm.

          C                             D
When he's drinking in the city, townies grip the bar and laugh.

       G7                           C
He's a drover just delivered sand goannas all in calf.

    F                              C         Am
And when he tells a tall one, it's Kosciusko high.

           G7                                           C
Then he’ll quickly change direction and almost make you cry.

         C                                  D
When the Southern Cross and diamond tail at night illuminate

  G7                            C
I often think of Scobie waitin' outside heavens' gate.

         F                           C             Am
With his saddlebag and quart pot and branding iron worn thin

         G7                                              C    F   C
Oh, I'll bet he'll con St Peter and the old man lets him in.