Slim Dusty – The Old Stag (Guitar)

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Oh, the old stag leaned against the fence, he was too poor to walk,

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And as the butcher sharpened up his knife the beast began to talk

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“Misguided man”, the bull stag cried, “don’t perpetrate this crime.

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Don't sell me to your customers and tell them that I'm prime.”

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“For I was Thirty-two last Christmas day and bred by Johnny Rudd

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And for nine-teen long and happy years, a monarch of his stud

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But alas my master sold me and put me out to work

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With the hair and hide flogged off me from Merinda out to Bourke.

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For years across the scorched Peru with never a day to spare,

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Oh, my master kept me to the yoke, and Moses could he swear!

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Oh, I've cancers, bots and pleura, oh, I scarce can draw my breath,

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Pray let me drag my bones aside and die a natural death.”

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The butcher laughed a greasy laugh, while poking out his tongue,

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"I'll tell them that you're lucerne fed, And I'll tell them that you're young.

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They do not know of what they eat, you know, the people of this town,

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And God sends the likes of you old chap to keep the prices down.”

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And with that he knocked the old stag down and made him into snags

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Next day he winked the other eye as he dealt them out the stag.

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“And should any of my patrons die from the catching of your ills,

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I hope it may be some of those who never pay their bills.”