Kel Watkins, of western Australia, sent me quite a lot of Australian things, just out of the love of sharing what he loved. This was among them, and when I finally met him in Toronto, he said, "OUt of all those songs, I bet I know which one you chose," - and he was right. Bloodwood said of the author: "Chris Buch, a mate of ours from Mt. Isa (sometimes referred to in hushed tones as "Father Folk"), spent some time with Johnny Stewart, droving. From the experience came this outstanding song." Buch is pronounced "Buck," I'm told. (GB}
The mob is dipped, the drive is started out,
They're leaving Rockland's dusty yards(*)
behind them.
The whips are cracking and the drovers shout;
Along the Queensland stock-routes you will
find them.
Droving days have been like this for years;
No modern ways have meant their days are
over.
The diesel-road-trains(**) cannot know the
steers,
or walk them down like Johnny Stewart,
drover.
On the banks of the Georgina and down
the Diamantina
To where the grass is greener, down by
New South Wales,
Johnny Stewart's roving, with mobs of
cattle droving.
His life story moving down miles of
dusty trails.
(*) Sung "sheds" - wrong.
(**)Road-trains= trucks.
The cook is busy by the campfire light,
Above the fire a billy gently swinging.
The mob is settled quietly for the night,
And Johnny's riding slowly 'round and
singing.
Johnny doesn't spend much time in town,
Impatient for the wet to be over:
Most of the year he's walking cattle down;
The stock-routes are home to Johnny
Stewart, drover.
(chorus)
Dawn will surely find another day;
Sun still chasing moon - never caught her.
The morning light will find them on
their way,
Another push to reach the next water.
(chorus)
They're counted in now; Johnny's work is
done,
And fifteen hundred head are handed over.
It's into town now for a little fun
And a beer or two for Johnny Stewart,
drover.
(chorus)