Slim Dusty все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Just Saddle Old Darkie and give me the reins,
Turn his old nose westward to the black soiled plains,
So long old timer, I'll be seeing you,
That's the way that I want it now my job is through.

I don't want a send-off, just a shake of your hand,
You've been a good mate to a lonely man,
So saddle Old Darkie, I'll be gettin' along,

Ah you mention in your letter that there's blue grass belly high
That there's clover on the Cooper once again
And I read too that the brumbies are just like they used to be
When we mustered on the Arrabury plains

So you're mustering down the river where the minaritchie grows
And the lignum almost barricades the sun
Where we used to strike the mickys full of cheek and quick to charge

It's lonesome away, from your kindred and all
By the campfire at night, where the wild dingoes call
But there's nothing so lonesome, so morbid or drear
Than to stand in a bar, of a pub with no beer
Now the publicans anxious, for the quota to come
There's a faraway look, on the face of the bum
The maids gone all cranky , and the cooks acting queer
What a terrible place, is a pub with no beer

Slim Dusty - Dinki-di Aussie Lyrics

I was born in a broken down wagonette,
On a far distant Queensland cattle route,
And my shawl was a dusty old saddle cloth,
I'm a dinki-di Aussie no doubt!

I was raised on the milk of a kangaroo,

G'day g'day, how ya goin', what d'ya know, well strike a light
G'day g'day, and how ya go-o-o-in'
Just say g'day g'day g'day and you'll be right

Isn't great to be an Aussie
Takin' a walk along the street
Lookin' in shops or buyin' a paper
Stoppin' and havin' a yarn with people that you meet

When our people came to this country
Some were shackled in chains
They toiled and tried and some of them died
Are you gonna let them die in vain
They awoke this land from it’s dreamtime
Made a way of life that we know
But now something is wrong, we gotta change our song
And sing, “Give Australia A Go”

I was talking to a swaggy yesterday
Oh his beard was long his hair was silver grey
His dress was out of style
But he wore a friendly smile
And here is what the old man had to say
You may think me most unusual my boy

When I tell you straight that I am stoney broke

Good old Ironbark Jim you’ve never seen the likes of
him
He’s the strongest man in the great outback
He can lift a horse and sulky up on his back
He’s as hard as horseshoe nails and he’s been in more
bush jails
Than fleas on a dog and he drinks enough grog
To irrigate New South Wales

THE ISA RODE0
Album : Heritage - 1988
Slim Dusty

Roll up you Ozzie horsemen, a challenge has been thrown.
Don't let it go unnoticed, rough riding's in your bones.
So pass along the grapevine, let everybody know
You've still got time to enter in Mt Isa's rodeo.

It Takes A Drought Lyrics

As I gaze out through my window I see hungry cattle
stand
Chewing sprigs of old man saltbush partly buried in the
sand
No trees to form a shelter from the blazing sun ahead
And dingoes eat the bones and hide of cattle long since

Well I've gotta make it into Sydney markets tonight
I've gotta be unloaded at Flemington before daylight
The Kennys' polished up and my log books' filled in to go
Why on earth I took on long distance drivin', mate I'll never know

I pushed her into 1st gear let the clutch out and then I'm away
The way the clutch is shuddering she's four tonne over I'd say
I hate to think what will happen when we get to Marulan weighbridge

Oh-de-lay-ee-oh, de-lee-do-lay-ee-oh, do-lee-do-lay-ee-ee
Oh you've done me wrong but it won't be long
'Ere my blues are out of si-ight
And this old green ra-attler's ready to go
Rollin' out of tow-own tonight
See her steam and hear the whistle scream
And we're off on the northern line
Flyin' 38 never known to be late

Oh, hushed are the voices and grey are the skies
And many the teardrops fall from dark and saddened eyes
And many fair brothers will stand with bowed head
For the message came this morning, Namatjira is dead
Oh, the stairs that Namatjira climbed are to the Hall of Fame
And there he left upon its wall a true Australian name
His paintings are of God's own country where it's people claim
The stairs that Namatjira climbed are to the Hall of Fame

They’re catching no more perch in old Nulla Nulla Creek
The water’s shallow now, where it used to be so deep
An’ when the flood is rushing down from the valley head so high
It spreads across the flat now, where it once went racing by

No use goin’ back to the quiet fishing hole
Where I used to catch big catfish where the season kurrajong pole
And the old man eels lay hidden in the willow sheltered bed

I’m just an old man, they call me old Dan I live in a shack out of town
Just me and old Blue, got nothin’ to do but wait for the sun to go down
And when it is gone, we don’t linger long, you don’t stay up late when you’re old
Oh I shuffle inside where old blue lies beside the fireplace when it is cold
I blow out the light there in the night, we dream of the days that are gone
I ride once again across the wide plain and blue will be diggin’ up bones
What a dog, Blue will be diggin’ up bones

Oh the radio tells me it's rainin'
But that I can see for myself,
And they tell me a cyclone is comin',
Oh I surely could do with some help,
This little old shovel I'm holdin'
Looks puny beside this big Mack,
She's down to the diff and still goin'
And there's only more mud up the track.

I come ridin' down the Barwon with my saddle and my swag
Strapped across the bony framework of a long backed chestnut nag
I was headin' for a station on the stockroute west of Bourke
To tangle with an outlaw horse well known in campfire talk

When I rode down to the stockyard where they said I'd find the boss
Standing just inside I saw the big roan outlaw horse
He was just the kind of horseflesh a ringer dreams about

'Tis a legend of the bushmen from the days of
Cunningham,
When he opened up the country and the early squatters
came.
"Tis the old tale of a fortune missed by men who did
seek,
And, perhaps, you haven't heard it, The Brass Well on
Myall Creek.

They are mustering cattle on Brigalow Vale
Where the stock-horses whinny and stamp,
And where long Andy Ferguson, you may go bail,
Is yet boss on a cutting-out camp.

Half the duffers I met would not know a fat steer
From a blessed old Alderney cow.
Whilst they’re mustering there I am wondering here

The ranges are covered with a purple gown,
As I ride through the hills today.
The breeze is chilly as the sun goes down,
And we know that Winter's on its way.

When the days grow shorter and the night grows long,
I'll dream beside my campfire then.
Leisurely strummin' on my old guitar,

You say you belong to Australia my friend
And rightly you’d die for this land to defend
But let us be honest, it’s sad but it’s true
Australia my friend doesn’t belong to you

Our country’s been sold by the powers that be
To big wealthy nations way over the sea
We couldn’t be taken by bayonets or lead