Farewell and adieu to you, Brisbane ladies Farewell and adieu, you maids of Toowong We've sold all our cattle and we have to get a movin' But we hope we shall see you again before long. We'll rant and we'll roar like true Queensland drovers We'll rant and we'll roar as onward we push Until we return to the Augathella station Oh, it's flamin' dry goin' through the old Queensland bush. The first camp we make, we shall call it the Quart Pot, Caboolture, then Kilcoy, and Colinton's Hut, We'll pull up at the Stone House, Bob Williamson's paddock, And early next morning we cross the Blackbutt. Then on to Taromeo and Yarraman Creek, lads, It's there we shall make our next camp for the day Where the water and grass are both plenty and sweet, lads, And maybe we'll butcher a fat little stray. Then on to Nanango, that hard-bitten township Where the out-of-work station-hands sit in the dust, Where the shearers get shorn by old Tim, the contr...
Living too much by my own little life bus.