Slim Dusty – The Man From Snowy River (Guitar)

D                         D7               G               D
There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around

         G           Em                 A
That the colt from old Regret had got away,

        D                    D7              G                D
And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound,

   G                  A               D
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.

        G                               D
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far

                                 A
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,

           D              D7               G                D
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,

            G                 A           D
And the stockhorse snuffs the battle with delight.

D                         D7               G               D
There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,

    G                Em                 A
The old man with his hair as white as snow;

       D              D7               G                D
But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up -

         G            A                   D
He would go wherever horse and man could go.

    G                           D
And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,

                                 A
No better horseman ever held the reins;

    D                  D7                  G                  D
For never horse could throw him while the saddle girths would stand,

   G                    A              D
He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.

D                    D7             G               D
And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast,

    G                Em                 A
He was something like a racehorse undersized,

       D              D7                 G               D
With a touch of Timor pony - three parts thoroughbred at least -

         G            A                   D
And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.

       G                                  D
He was hard and tough and wiry - just the sort that won't say die -

                                 A
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;

       D                 D7              G                D
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,

        G               A               D
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.

D                       D7               G                  D
But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,

        G                   Em               A
And the old man said, "That horse will never do

       D              D7                 G               D
For a long and tiring gallop - lad, you'd better stop away,

      G                 A                 D
Those hills are far too rough for such as you."

       G                            D
So he waited sad and wistful - only Clancy stood his friend -

                                       A
"I think we ought to let him come," he said;

   D                 D7               G             D
"I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end,

         G             A               D
For both his horse and he are mountain bred.

    D                D7           G           D
"He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side,

          G                  Em                 A
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,

       D                     D7                 G                  D
Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,

      G                 A            D
The man that holds his own is good enough.

        G                         D
And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,

                                       A
Where the river runs those giant hills between;

       D              D7               G                  D
I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,

            G        A               D
But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen."

      D                     D7           G           D
So he went - they found the horses by the big mimosa clump -

     G           Em                    A
They raced away towards the mountain's brow,

        D                D7                G                D
And the old man gave his orders, "Boys, go at them from the jump,

   G              A            D
No use to try for fancy riding now.

     G                      D
And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.

                                     A
Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,

    D             D7               G               D
For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,

   G                  A               D
If once they gain the shelter of those hills."

   D              D7                  G             D
So Clancy rode to wheel them - he was racing on the wing

          G                Em                A
Where the best and boldest riders take their place,

       D                    D7                G               D
And he raced his stockhorse past them, and he made the ranges ring

         G                A                D
With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face.

          G            D
Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash,

                                               A
But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,

         D                   D7               G                D
And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash,

    G            A                   D
And off into the mountain scrub they flew.

     D                 D7                  G               D
Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black

   G             Em               A
Resounded to the thunder of their tread,

        D                   D7               G                 D
And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back

     G                     A           D
From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.

    G            D
And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way,

                                      A
Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;

         D               D7                G                D
And the old man muttered fiercely, "We may bid the mob good day,

   G                 A              D
No man can hold them down the other side."

          D                      D7           G             D
When they reached the mountain's summit, even Clancy took a pull,

   G                   Em                 A
It well might make the boldest hold their breath,

    D                   D7               G                 D
The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full

   G                     A        D
Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.

        G              D
But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,

                                            A
And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,

       D                  D7              G                D
And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,

          G                A               D
While the others stood and watched in very fear.

            D            D7             G              D
He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,

   G                  Em             A
He cleared the fallen timber in his stride,

        D              D7          G              D
And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat -

       G                 A                 D
It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.

            G                D
Through the stringybarks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,

                                      A
Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;

       D              D7             G               D
And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound,

       G              A            D
At the bottom of that terrible descent.

       D               D7             G                   D
He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill,

        G               Em                A
And the watchers on the mountain standing mute,

        D                 D7               G                D
Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still,

      G                A              D
As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.

          G              D
Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met

                                      A
In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals

     D               D7                G             D
On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,

         G              A              D
With the man from Snowy River at their heels.

       D               D7                G                     D
And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam.

   G               Em                  A
He followed like a bloodhound on their track,

          D                D7              G                      D
Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home,

    G             A                   D
And alone and unassisted brought them back.

        G              D
But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,

                                           A
He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;

        D               D7                 G             D
But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,

    G             A                D
For never yet was mountain horse a cur.

    D             D7             G                D
And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise

      G               Em             A
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,

          D               D7               G                  D
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze

   G               A               D
At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,

    G                D
And where around The Overflow the reed beds sweep and sway

                                           A
To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,

    D               D7        G              D
The man from Snowy River is a household word today,

        G                 A            D
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.

        G                 A            D
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.

        G                 A            D
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.

        G                 A            D
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.