Galahs In The Gidgee CD, MP3 Album, Individual songs

Galahs in the Gidgee

Words and Music by Colin Buchanan © 1994 Universal Music (Aust)

Shearers, rouseabouts, stockmen and jackaroos
Cockies and squatters, swaggies with nothing to lose
Ridden and driven and trode these tracks
Calloused their hands and bent their backs
There’s some ripper yarns to spin if you can spare a minute of your time

Chorus
Galahs in the gidgee
Emus on the plains
‘Roos in the table drains
In a rugged land
Galahs in the gidgee
They watch this country grow
And I reckon they’d tell some stories if they could

House-wives, cooks, mothers and daughters too
They put their hand to whatever they had to do
From kitchen stove to a horse’s back
In homestead tent and timber shack
You’ll shake your head at their tales of courage if you stick around

Chorus

Not too many of the old timers still around
There’s another generation walking this dusty ground
But there’s still surprises out of the back o’ Bourke
And it still takes sweat and it takes hard work
And there’s still some ripper yarns if you can spare a minute of your time

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Uncle Viv

Words and Music by Colin Buchanan © 1994 Universal Music (Aust)

Just what got me in I’m not quite sure
The hat with the Legacy badges
Or the tales about the war?
But when the stories started
I wanted to hear more

He spent some time in the Northern Territory
Proud of his time as a young bloke
Serving actively
The Coopers ale was rationed
But the jungle juice was free

Chorus
And he was born in the depression
He grew up hungry
And times were hard
And all his memories he’ll re-live
When you’re chewin’ the fat with Uncle Viv

Childhood days were lean and things were tough
Porridge made from grinding wheat
Never quite enough
And he chuckles now when the young ones
Say that things are getting tough

Chorus

Lightning Ridge was home till ’72
Mum couldn’t run the farm alone
So his mining days were through
But the treasures in his tobacco tin
He’ll gladly show to you

Chorus

Well his curly hair is long and mostly grey
And his grin is nearly toothless
And his joints have had their day
But Viv has got a swag of yarns
He’ll gladly throw your way

Chorus

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FRANK THE SCAB

Words & Music by Colin Buchanan © 1994 Universal Music Publishing.


Frank had 7 kids and a 20 stone wife

They lived on the frowned on side of town

A simple sort of life

He's had a council job since '74

Kept the food in the belly and the wolf from the door
And gave him time to do what he liked the best.

A trip to the tip

The quick and the dead

The old girl stands and shakes her head
He takes the half full garbo down the road
And comes back with a grin and

A trailer load

And the kids say "Wow!

Look what dad's got this time"

Frank once heard a yarn he believes is true
About a fella named Flint who made a mint
From a rich bloke passing through

One man's junk is another's delight

So Frank saw junk in a different light

And now for him too much is never enough.

A trip to the tip

The quick and the dead

The old girl stands and shakes her...

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HARVEST

Words & Music by Colin Buchanan © 1994 Universal Music Publishing.

The crops have just started to turn golden brown
Patches of green on retreat

The last of the spring rains have swollen the grain
Harvest will soon be here

Ron took delivery of his header last week
And there's contractors rolling through town
The sight of the trains by the silos betray
Harvest will soon be here

The Patterson's Curse turns from purple to grey

The wet winter slips into the past

The sprinklers are showering the lawns around town
Harvest will soon be here

The feed in the long paddock dries in the sun
Only the lucerne is green

Talk by the bar is of prices and yields
Harvest will soon be here

So will this be the year that the silos run full
The year that the headers run slow
The year that the grain trucks will stretch to four deep
When the harvest is here.

Or will this be year of the hail or the fire
Has take all hit heavy and hard
Will we climb out of debt
Or just sink deeper still?
We’ll tell the harvest is here
We’ll tell the harvest is here

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She Waits

Words and music by Colin Buchanan © 1994 UNIVERSAL MUSIC (AUST.)

They met in the summer of 1958
A hometown girl with stars in her eyes
He came from out of town to work in the mill
She found what she was looking for
And he, he found a wife
She still remembers those good old days
Nights filled with laughter and friends
Drives in the country
And nights at the cinema
She still remembers
But he, he seems to forget

Chorus
He’s sitting at the bar of the Railway Hotel
He’s sittin with his mates all alone
She’s sitting in the Kingswood with a cigarette in hand
She waits
Remembers all they hoped it would be

The church bells echoed over town that day
They both felt the future looked bright
She still hears those church bells every Sunday morning
It is all that is left of their dreams
They just echoed away

Chorus

The railway that brought her, her man is closed
The flourmill is boarded and still
She’s mourning a friendship that slipped through her fingers
They took it for granted they’d be happy
But I guess they were wrong

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DEBUTANTES’ BALL

Words & Music by Colin Buchanan © 1994 Universal Music Publishing.


The night of night so f the social year

The rich and the influential are here

Come for the spectacle, come one come all
Tonight is the night of the Debutantes’ Ball

The visiting dignitaries marched through the door
We were all up standing with respect and with awe
The visiting cardinal’s outfit left no doubt at all

He had the best dress of the Debutantes’ Ball

The moment that all had been waiting for came

The Debs and their partners were called in by name
Like bulls at an auction they were led round the hall
But nobody bit at the Debutantes’ Ball

The boys in their bow ties the debs wearing white
The women wore outfits made just for the night
The beautiful dresses on the Debutantes’ Ball

Will one day line the racks of St Vincent De Paul

With formalities done with the band took the stage
300 people were ready to rage
From barn dance to waltzes to old rock and roll
Young and old danced at the Debutantes’ Ball

All the old timers the kids thought were lame

Got out on that dance floor and put them to shame
Gliding and swirling all around the hall

While the kids trod on toes at the Debutantes’ Ball

They called it a night at about half past 2

A fair contingent had sunk quite a few

They finally staggered out of the hall

To go home and sleep off the Debutantes’ Ball

The’ve had one for years and they had one again
Different debs who look much the same

While I’m still trying to make sense of it all
They’re already planning the Debutantes’ Ball

The night of night so f the social year

The rich and the influential are here

Come for the spectacle, come one come all
Tonight is the night of the Debutantes’ Ball
Tonight was the night of the Debutantes’ Ball

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Farm Cars

Words and music by Colin Buchanan © 1994 UNIVERSAL MUSIC (AUST.)

What’s that roar
Rattling and rumbling
Got no door but it doesn’t seem to matter Duco’s scratched
Panels bent and dented
Can’t be matched
Those no frills no brakes
Gut thrasher paddock basher Farm cars

What a sight
Gurgling at sunrise
Packed so tight
Chippers hanging out the windows Oily smoke
No suspension
What a joke
Those overheating flat battery
Gut thrasher paddock basher Farm cars

CHORUS
They’re looking like they’re living on borrowed time
They sound just a little bit past their prime
But a job needs doing and they’ll get it done...
Those bald tyred clapped out
Gut thrasher paddock basher farm cars

What a ride
Hasn’t got a muffler Brakes applied
Doesn’t make a difference Driver grins

Hasn’t got an idea
Bogged again
In a flow through dust blown Gut thrasher paddock basher Farm cars

CHORUS

Got the scars
Battered round the edges Poor old cars
Been put through the ringer
Driven through fences
Driven into ditches
Driven til they die
Those weather beaten rust eaten Gut thrasher paddock basher Farm cars

CHORUS

Weather beaten rust eaten
Gut thrasher paddock basher...
Overheating flat battery
Gut thrasher paddock basher
Farm cars

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Come What May

Words and Music by Colin Buchanan © 1994 Universal Music (Aust)

It was tinder dry round Illabo all summer
And we’re not entirely certain just how the fires began
But when the flames had finally passed
And we saw all that we’d lost
We weren’t about to bid it all farewell

Cos there’s been fire before in Illabo
And there’ll be fire again
And come what may
There’s been worse things in our way
It’s our home and we won’t leave
Without a fight

There were kids who’d never see the rain in Grenfell
And everyone was wondering just when the drought would break
And as each dusty day went by
We watched the stock curl up and die
But we weren’t about to do the same ourselves

Cos there’s been drought before in Grenfell
And there’ll be drought again
And come what may
There’s been worse things in our way
It’s our home and we won’t leave
Without a fight

After all the years of toil and tears
People ought to know
That we’re not the sort of folks
Who just let go
Most were glad when the drought broke in Nyngan
But what had really happened was the floods had just begun
And though we worked all through the night
In the end we lost the fight
But that didn’t mean
We’d lose the place for good

Cos there’s been flood before in Nyngan
And there’ll be flood again
And come what may
There’s been worse things in our way
It’s our home and we won’t leave
And there’s been flood before in Nyngan
And there’ll be flood again
And come what may
There’s been worse things in our way
It’s our home and we won’t leave
Without a fight

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Time For A Yarn

Words & Music by Colin Buchanan © 1994 Universal Music Publishing.


CHORUS
On any street corner or in a bar
Over a fence or under a car
Working in town or out on the farm
Country blokes always have time for a yarn

Mick was down camp street building a shed
Bit of a sideline to help get ahead
He was mixing the concret but the work was so slow
Cos fellas kept stopping to chat

G’day mate
G’day
Whataya know
Not much mate
Well, there you go
Reckon it’ll rain
Don’t know mate
Mmmm
So
Better go
OK cob
See you later

CHORUS

The block next Mervyn’s lives not far away
It’s just a good spit on a strong windy day
And when Mervyn’s fencing he might wander past
And stop for a bit of a chat

G’day mate ….

CHORUS

Davo’s a builder and he’d make a few quid
But he got paid for the talking he did
Cos it seems as soon as he picks up his tools
Some fella stops for a chat

G’day mate …

Chorus

I lived in the city where things don’t move slow
Everyone’s always got somewhere to go
And the only friends are the people that you know
Well maybe it’s time for a chat

G’day mate …

Country blokes always have time for a yarn

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PROGRESS

Words & Music by Colin Buchanan © 1994 Universal Music Publishing.

I've seen the struggle of the daring ones

Seen the work wrought with calloused hands

Seen a world that clung so desperately

In days that now have passed

I've seen the rusting iron once so proud

Seen the fields they cleared tree by tree

Seen the remnants of their industry

In days that now have passed

All that's gone before us seems so easily forgotten

The sweat that dripped on dusty soil's

Remembered by so few

But women, men and children died


To open up the countryside

It seems as if their memory is fading from our view
They saw their house’s built stone by stone

They saw their families watch hungrily


They saw the rains come and thanked the Lord

In days that now have passed
They saw the tracks they came by turn to roads

They saw the traders come and watched…

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SINGLETS BLUE

Words & Music by Colin Buchanan © 1994 Universal Music Publishing.

Grab your gear - it's time to take a pen,

 Working out the western sheds again,

 From sheep to table, bin to bale

 Cockies work 'em tooth and nail

To the chuggin' of the donk and the

 Chattering blade



 Dusty fleeces - burrs right through the wool

The red-eyed wethers buck and kick and pull;

Double money for an angry ram,

 An aching back from a gentle lamb

 And eyes peeled for a bare-bellied ewes



CHORUS
So bend that back,

 Shear that wool,

It's forty in the shade and the holding yards

 Are full

 With singlets blue

 And faces red -

 A bludger has no place in a shearing shed



There's new boys there who seem to fight the sheep,

 Seem to leave a cut with every sweep

 Well take your needle take your thread

 And find yourself another shed

The boss don't want butchers on his board



CHORUS

There isn't work much harder

 Then the work out on the board

 The fancy new sheds don't make it easy

' Cause sheep are just as stupid

 As sheep will ever be

 And shearing's still as sweaty and as greasy



CHORUS

It's not the work that many people choose,

 Lots of sheep and lots of mutton stews.

 But from presser to shearer to young shed hand

 They're doing their bit in a rugged land

 To bring to the world Australian wool



CHORUS

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