It’s cold and wet, the rain pours down,
The lawn’s a sea of mud.
The flamin’ cows – so tired they are –
Won’t even chew the cud.
The happy frogs down in the swamp
Are croaking “What a Ripper”
The farmer’s cold and empty
Like a freshly gutted kipper.
With all this rain just where’s the dough
To pay the mortgage off?
Fair dinkum it would make you pack
Your bags and bugger off.
This rotten rain, enough it is,
To give a man the pip.
Let’s sling our hook. Let’s do a bunk,
And let the mortgage rip.
Our bags are packed. We’ve caught the coach,
Got up at dawn betimes.
And now we’re off with Ted and Baz
For warmer, drier climes.
Boys and girls, and chaps and blokes
And all you little bairns,
We’re roving north in Eggins’ coach
To sunlit, tropic Cairns.
So all ye merry gentlefolk.
Let nothing ye dismay.
We’ll chase the sun and have some fun,
And do it all……..”Myway”.
We’ve had the cold, we’ve had the rain,
We’ve had the rotten weather.
We’re sallying forth and travelling north
Out to the Never-Never.
When we stop we’ll say “Good day”
To snakes, goannas, lizards.
And every night we’ll pour the grog
Straight down our bone dry gizzards.
And why not,folks? – For people praise
The gentle art of giving.
Let’s give a little to ourselves!
Life’s also made for living.
We picked up Bet at Harrington,
But Ted got into strife.
He’d missed the town right off the tour,
Said Jan, his lady wife.
Near Kempsey, over Worrel Creek,
Ted pointed with a sneer.
“Those blokes are really up a creek.
The pub there has no beer.”
And it’s a fact! Slim Dusty who
Now lives down in the smog,
Amassed his fortune singing of
This pub run out of grog.
Nambucca Heads was where we stopped
To sip our morning tea.
Blue river waters surge to meet
The shimmering, boundless, sea.
Crash Bang McCarthy once lived here.
Car mending was his racket.
From tales I hear I greatly fear
He never made his packet.
Ted Hill knew Crash Bang very well
Before he called it quits.
A tractor tyre he once blew up
Exploded into bits.
Repairing once a fire engine,
Crash Bang fell in the mire;
Took morning tea, came back to see
The engine was on fire.
South Grafton RSL Club was
The venue for our lunch.
Ted said they’d catered often for
The Taree “Myway” Bunch.
But one successful barbecue
Had got so stinking hot
It took the tables, took the Club,
And torched the flamin’ lot!
We therefore crossed the city to
Its second RSL.
This Club did NOT burn down, and we –
Well, we did pretty well.
When leaving Grafton later on
Irene could not be found.
The pokies had her in their spell.
‘Twas Ted was brought her round.
Murwillumbah we by-passed and
Condong hove into sight.
And when you say that name be sure
Your teeth are fixed in tight.
Speeding north through New South Wales,
(With zero interruption),
Within a few short hours we reached
The State of Mass Corruption.
And if our Baz steps on the gas
So we can get a beer.
Well, drinking time is not a crime –
–Just raise your hats and cheer.
And should a passing cop come up,
Is speeding such a sin?
We’ll slip the cop his fifty bucks,
And everyone chip in!
For that’s the way they organise
Within the Sunshine State.
Don’t moan and growl. Don’t weep and howl.
It’s kismet, chaps. It’s fate.
It’s great that Cec McCaffrey
Has brought his Kath along
The word is (if we’re very good),
She’ll lead us all in song.
Kath did this in New Zealand
While our coach climbed Arthur’s Pass.
We knew if we went o’er the edge
We’d land right on……………….the grass.
Kath cheered us up. But umpteen sheep
Took flight straight up the hill.
They didn’t like the music, see……?
…….(I think they’re running still !)
Har-de-har and Ho-de ho !
Just kidding, sweet Kathleen.
You really are the nicest girl
That we have ever seen.
So dear old Ted, we’re in your hands.
(You’ve never been a failure !)
We leave it up to you and Baz
To show us round Australia.