Slim Dusty – St Peter (Guitar)

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Oh, I think there’s is a likeness ’twixt St. Peter’s life and mine,

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For he did a lot of trampin’ long ago in Palestine.

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He was ‘union’ when the workers first began to organise,

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And I’m glad that old St. Peter keeps the gates of Paradise.

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When the ancient agitator and his brothers carried swags,

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I’ve no doubt he very often tramped with empty tucker-bags;

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And I’m glad he’s Heaven’s picket, For I hate explainin’ things,

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And he’ll think a union ticket just as good as Whitely King’s.

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When I reach the great head-station Which is somewhere off the track

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I won’t want to talk with angels Who have never been out back;

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They might bother me with offers of a banjo meaning’ well

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And a pair of wings to fly with, When I only want a spell. Oh yeah.

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I’ll just ask for old St. Peter, And I think, when he appears,

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I shall only have to tell him That I carried swag for years.

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‘I’ve been on the track,’ I’ll tell him, ‘An’ I done the best I could,’

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he’ll understand me better Than the other angels would.

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He won’t try to get a chorus Out of lungs that’s worn to rags,

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Or to graft the wings on shoulders stiff with humpin’ tucker-bags

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But I’ll rest about the station Where a work-bell never rings,

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Till they blow the final trumpet, And the Great Judge sees to things.

      A                                                       E
Oh, I think there’s is a likeness ’twixt St. Peter’s life and mine,

                                              A
For he did a lot of trampin’ long ago in Palestine.

                                      A7           D
He was ‘union’ when the workers first began to organise,

                          A               E            A
And I’m glad that old St. Peter keeps the gates of Paradise.

            E                                          A         A
Oh yes, I’m glad that old St. Peter keeps the gates of Paradise.