Slim Dusty – Where Country Is (Guitar)

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He sat by the door of the grand old Birdsville Pub,

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His swag and gear guarded by a faithful healer dog,

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He wore a shirt that would blind ya and a rumpled ringer's hat,

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This old man was country, he left no doubt of that.

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There was legend in the lines of his weather beaten face,

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Those eyes had seen a lot of changes in the Aussie race,

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The passing of the horseman, the death of an age,

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Seems to me he's doubts, that we've turned a better page.

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He sat there hillbilly pickin' on a cracked and battered Gibson,

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And the songs that he sang were all his,

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Every song told a story and the more I'd listen,

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The more I realized this is where country is.

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Well he sang of mobs of cattle moving down the Birdsville track,

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And the camels carting wool in the early days outback,

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He sang of wild eyed scrubbers ridin' flat out in the night,

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Tryin' to ring the mob, 'cause lightning's quick to fright.

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And he sang loudly and proudly of our pioneering ladies and

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I suspect that one such lass was his.

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Home in this early frontier country, was a lonely dirt floor Humphrey,

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No doubt about it, this man knows where country is.

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His songs told how they did it and I felt a sense of shame,

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And I wondered if the battler would ever be again,

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His pride for his country rang true in every song,

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And I wondered, if the chips were down, I would be as strong.

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He sat there hillbilly pickin' on a cracked and battered Gibson,

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And the songs that he sang were all his,

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Every song told a story and the more I'd listen,

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The more I realized this is where country is.

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Yes mate, we're so far from the city here.

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You know what - this is where country is.

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Dust storms, flies, hot beer.