| If just passing through Mt Isa
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| Don’t forget to take the time
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| To go around old mate, an' meet
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| A real good friend of mine
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| Yet I’ve looked in beauty parlours
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| Or the modern fashion stores
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| You’ll find her at the sale yards
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| Loading fats or dipping stores
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| She’s as hard an' tough as greenhide'
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| With a heart of solid gold
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| Educated on the stock routes
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| In the droving days of old
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| Taking nightwatch, tething horses
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| On the famous Murringai
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| Living close to God and nature
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| Where the Wedgetail eagles fly
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| Hey!
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| Her father was a teacher
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| And he put her to the test
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| In the college of the stockmen
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| On the big camps in the west
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| She can educate a young horse
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| In a firm and gentle way
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| Just like her father taught her
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| On the stock routes in his day
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| And she takes a lot of shifting
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| From the park and pully seat
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| In a fair go on a plucker
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| She’s pretty hard to beat
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| And in the rodeo arena
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| At the Isa every year
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| With a pick up men she’s working
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| She’d beat stockmen tending gear. |
| Hey!
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| She can ply the awl an' needles
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| She can use the shoein' gear
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| And when the days work’s over, mate
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| She’ll join you in a beer
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| Well respected by the bushmen
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| All through the northern line
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| She’s a credit to her father
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| From the old stock riding line
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| She has known the joys and sorrows
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| Of a mother and a wife
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| And it mostly is the good
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| Who are the loosers in this life
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| So when you meet her she would greet you
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| With a handshake rough and hard
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| So don’t forget to tell her, mate
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| We all send our best regards. |
| Hey!
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| Yeah, mate, don’t forget to tell her
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| We all send our best regards
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| We really do |