NINE MILES FROM GUNDAGAI
I've done my share of shearing sheep,
Of droving and all that'
And bogged a bullock-team as well,
On the Murrumbidgee flat,
I've seen a bullock stretch and strain,
And blink his weary eye,
And the dog sits on the tucker box,
Nine miles from Gundagai.
I've been jilted, jarred, and crossed in love,
And sand-bagged in the dark,
Till if a mountain fell on me
I'd treat it as a lark.
It's when you've got your bullocks bogged
That's the time you flog and cry,
And the dog sits on the tucker box,
Nine miles from Gundagai.
We've all got our little troubles,
In life's hard, thorny way,
Some strike them in a motor car
And others in a dray,
But when your dog and bullocks strike,
It ain't no apple pie,
And the dog sat on the tucker box'
Nine miles from Gundagai.
But that's all past and dead and gone,
And I've sold the team for meat,
And perhaps, some day where I was bogged,
There'll be an asphalt street.
The dog, ah well he got a bait,
and thought he'd like to die,
So I buried him in the tucker box
Nine Miles from Gundagai.
~Jack Moses~