I’m used to punchin’ bullock teams across the hills and plains.
I’ve teamed outback for forty years through bleedin’ hail and rain.
I’ve had me share of troubles boys, but till I die
But I can’t forget what happened just five miles from Gundagai.
‘Twas getting dark, the team got bogged, the axle snapped in two.
I lost me matches and me pipe, so what was I to do?
The rain it was a-coming on, and a bit cold, and hungry too was I,
And me doggie shat in me tucker-box five miles from Gundagai.
Some blokes I know have stacks of luck, no matter where they fall,
But there was I, Lord love a duck, no bloody luck at all.
I couldn’t heat a pot of tea or keep me trousers dry,
And the dog shat in me tucker-box five miles from Gundagai.
I can forgive the damp and cold and I can forgive the rain.
I can forgive the bleedin’ team, and go through it again.
I can forgive the rotten luck, but hang me till I die,
I can’t forgive that bloody dog, five miles from Gundagai.