OOPS 11 The Overlanders 
                                    Traditional Australian

There's a trade you all know well, 
It's bringing the cattle over 
On every track to the Gulf and back, 
Men know the Queensland Drover. 

So pass the billy round, boys, 
Don't let the pint pot stand there, 
For tonight we drink the health 
Of every overlander. 

I come from the Northern Plains, 
Where the girls and the grass are scanty; 
Where the creeks run dry or ten feet high, 
And it's either drought or plenty. 

There are men from every land, 
From Spain, and France, and Flanders, 
They're a well-mixed pack, both white and black, 
The Queensland Overlanders. 

When we've earned a spree in town, 
We live like pigs in clover; 
And many's the check goes down the neck 
Of the Queenland Overlander. 

As I pass along the road, 
The children raise my dander, 
Crying: "Mother, dear, take in your clothes, 
Here comes an Overlander." 

Now I'm bound for home once more, 
On a prad that's quite a goer; 
I can find a job with the crawling mob 
On the banks of the Maranoa. 

Version 2
Am C 
There's a trade you all know well, 
Dm Em 
It's bringing the cattle over. 
Am C 
Now gather round, and listen I'll tell you 
Dm Em 
How I became a drover. 
C G 
I wanted stock for Queensland - 
C G 
To Kempsey I did wander 
Am C 
Bought a thousand cattle there, 
Dm Em Am 
And then turned overlander. 

C G 
Pass the bottle round boys, 
C G 
And don't you leave it stand there, 
Am C 
For tonight we'll drink the health 
Dm Em Am 
Of every overlander. 

When the cattle were all counted 
And the outfit ready to start, 
I saw the boys all mounted 
With their swags thrown in the cart, 
All kinds of men I had too 
From Spain and France and Flanders - 
Lawyers, doctors, good and bad, 
In the mob of overlanders. 

We move the cattle fifty miles 
And make camp for the day, 
We talk about the rich folk's 
And true loves far away. 
Our tucker isn't fancy - 
Beef and tea and damper 
But wash it down with Queensland rum - 
It suits the overlander. 

I included this song because people wandered where I got the filk for the Avacal Rovers.
From www.bassnote.com/songs/aussie/aussie.htm
Written in the 1890's, drovers still sing this song about their surely dying trade. Thousands of cattle come down from the north in road-transports now. Others come in airplanes. And man of the mobs that move across the desert or bush are mustered by stockmen on motorcycles. But the romance is still there - the dust, the songs, the campfires, and the comradeship.