Banjo

Don't tell me the Banjo's dead, oh, yes I've heard the 
tale,
That Banjo isn't dead at all, he's caught the western mail,
He has a lot of friends, you know, among the western men,
He wants to look into their eyes, and grip their hands 
again.

He wants to spend some quiet nights beneath the western 
stars,
And hear the evening wind again, among the green galahs
So if you tell me Banjo's dead, just say that it's a lie,
He comes from where they breed 'em tough, and Banjo will 
not die.

They say that Clancy sent him word, he's at the Overflow,
But many more old mates of his, who knew him long ago,
there's a man from Snow River, from Kosciusko side,
Who brought the wild mob in alone, and showed them how to 
ride.

He's got his mountain pony too, as tough and wirey yet,
As when he chased the brumby mob, the colt from Old Regret.
Another chap, now what's his name, oh, he comes from 
Ironbark,
He thought the barber cut his throat, and he didn't cop 
that lark.

All these old mates of his are there, with others on the 
way,
An' when he got a call from them, how the hell could Banjo 
stay,
there's Gundagai an' Salt Bush Bill, a rough and rugged 
pair,
I bet there'll be some fun you know, when Banjo meets them 
there.

Old trooper Scott is comin' too, to represent the force,
And Andy Reagan or his ghost on Father Riley's horse,
They're makin' for the Overflow, an' when they all arrive,
you'll see that Banjo isn't dead mate, he's very much 
alive.

They'll hold a racing match of course, you bet yur life 
they will,
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And there'll be fun with Gundagai and tough old Salt Bush 
Bill,
Old Parden will be hard to beat, they say he knows the 
track,
But Swagman Claps will run in close, With Ryan on his back,

And near at hand old Rio Grand is sure to make a claim,
But bold McPherson ridin’ hard, a horseman grim and game,
I see them racing neck an' neck and as they near the post,
Old Fawkin Bella hits the front with Reagan or his ghost.

Old Fawkin Bella hits the front and as they pass the judge,
A yell goes up from uncle Greg, the poor old station grudge
Who with the boy strapped on his back, through swirling 
floods and foam,
Swam bravely through the pitch black night, to bring the 
youngster home.

Old Mongrel Grey has beat 'em all, and honest horse and 
true,
But Clancy glad to see when and so is Banjo too.
Then glasses clink and healths are drunk and many a tale is
 told,
Of roving days and droving days that never will grow old.

Yes the seasons come, the seasons go and little here 
abides,
But good old Banjo will not die as long as Clancy Rides,
As long as bushmen love a horse, the wild swan swim on by,
As long as there's a Southern Cross, the Banjo will not 
die.

So send the joyous news abroad thru Huttons shearing shed,
And tell the bushmen not to grieve, that Banjo is not dead.
Yes tell the bushman not to grieve, for Banjo is not dead.