Oh the radio tells me itís raininí
But that I can see for myself,
And they tell me a cyclone is cominí,
Oh I surely could do with some help,
This little old shovel Iím holdiní
Looks puny beside this big Mack,
Sheís down to the diff and still goiní
And thereís only more mud up the track.
Oh Iíve revved and Iíve rocked and reversed it,
Iíve dug at the mud on the wheels,
Iíve kicked and Iíve swore and Iíve cursed it,
And to the good Lord Iíve appealed,
But the line up to heaven aint open,
Iíve a feeling Iím not gettiní through,
Iíll just have to lighten the load,
One carton of stubbies should do.
Oh I wonder if ever theyíd miss it,
One carton from all of those tons,
But I can bet you theyíll be askiní "where is it?"
And lickiní their dry dusty tongues,
I can picture those miners all dyiní
Of thirst in that drought stricken town,
While here in the mud Iíve been tryiní,
Striviní to put the booze down.
And in each of these stubbies Iíve emptied,
[ From: http://www.elyrics.net ]
I insert a small note of distress,
And cast it adrift in the gully,
An SOS out of the west,
How many days have I languished
Here in this swamp called a road,
While in my despair and my anguish
Iíve been workiní at lightening the load.
Perhaps some old fisherman casting
His line on the barrier reef,
Will see all these stubbies go past him,
And come sailiní up to my relief,
And wont we all have such a booze up,
The best ever seen on this road,
But I doubt they ever will choose us
To carry their next flaminí load.
So good health to the sandflies and skeeters,
Good luck to that sullen old frog.
Oh Iím damned if this rainís gonna beat us,
Thank hell for this truck load of grog,
Oh send her down Hughie you beauty,
You got the right knack of doiní it now,
Oh my sorrows are drowned well and truly,
And thereís plenty more booze to put down.
Ahh itís a lonesome a what am I doiní in this mud,
stuck in a truck with a load full of grog.