| Spoken lead-up
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| Trucks and roadtrains taking over, the drovers been pushed out.
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| The old track is seldom used anymore.
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| This song is dedicated to the drovers of yesterday and today
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| and to the last of the great droving stock-routes,
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| the Georgina.
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| Which begins at Lake Nash near Mt Isa, and ends near Bourke
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| in western New South Wales.
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| Sung
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| I was born in the saddle,
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| Born into a life I’ll never leave,
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| The life of the drover,
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| Will always be the only life for me,
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| Like my father before me,
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| I’ve ridden every stock-route in the land,
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| From the Canning to the Birdsville Track,
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| I know 'em like the back. |
| … of my hand,
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| They call me Georgina’s Son.
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| The last one in a long proud family line,
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| I’m the Georgina’s Son,
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| Comin' back to ride the old track one more time,
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| From Lake Nash to The Black Stump,
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| This run’s for the sake of Auld Lang Syne,
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| ‘cause Georgina’s Son,
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| Is comin' back to see the old girl one last time.
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| I have seen me some changes,
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| In fifty years and fifteen miles a day,
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| With droughts an' floods an' midnight rushes
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| trying to take my life along the way,
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| And I’m still in the saddle
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| Still tryin' to settle down some restless mob,
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| Stirred up by the distant roar of diesel in the night,
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| Another duffer out to get my job.
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| They call me Georgina’s Son,
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| The last one in a long proud family line,
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| I’m the Georgina’s Son,
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| Comin' back to ride the old track one more time,
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| From Lake Nash to The Black Stump,
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| This run’s for the sake of Auld Lang Syne,
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| ‘cause Georgina’s Son,
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| Is comin' back to see the old girl one last time.
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| From Lake Nash to The Black Stump,
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| This run’s for the sake of Auld Lang Syne,
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| ‘cause Georgina’s Son,
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| Is comin' back to see the old girl one last time. |