Lyrics

Oh, there's a trade you all know well, it's bringing cattle over I'll tell yous all about the time that I became a drover I wanted stock for Queensland to Kempsey I did wander I bought amount of duffers there and began as an overlander [Chorus] So pass the bottle round, me boys, don't you leave it stand there For tonight we'll drink the health of every overlander Well, when the cattle were counted and the outfit ready to start The lads were all a-mounted with their swags up in the cart I saw I had all sorts of men from Germany, France and Flanders Lawyers, doctors, good and bad in the mob of overlanders The very next morning I fed up where the grass was green and young And the squatter said he'd break my snout if I didn't push along Says I, "My lad you're very hard but don't you raise my dander For I'm a regular knowing card, I'm a Queensland overlander." They swore they didn't pound my cattle but I fooled them all the time They very seldom caught us and they never got their fine They think we live on store beef but I'm no flamin' gander "If a fat little stray comes our way he'll do," says the overlander If ever our horses get done up of course we turn 'em free And you can't expect a drover to walk if a pony he can see So now and then we bone a prad and believe me it's no slander To say there's many a clever trick done by an overlander Now I would scourn to prig a shirt 'tis all me mates can say But if we pass through a township all on a washing day The dirty brats of kids would shout, and quickly raise me dander Crying, "Mother quick, take in the clothes, here comes an overlander." In town we drain the whiskey glass and go to see the play We never think of being hard up nor how to spend the day We shear up to them pretty girls who rig themselves with grandeur And as long as we spend our cheques, me lads, they love the overlander A little girl in Sydney side, she said, "Don't leave me lonely." I said, "It's sad but my old prad has room for one man only." So now, my lads, we're jogging on, this pony she's a goer We'll pick up a job with a crawling mob along the Maranoa [Chorus] So pass the bottle round, me boys, don't you leave it stand there For tonight we'll drink the health of every overlander