They couldnt understand why the drover cried
As they buried the drovers boy
The drover had always seemed so hard
To the men in his employ
A bolting horse, a stirrup lost
And the drovers boy was dead
The shovelled dirt, a mumbled word
And its back to the road ahead
And forget about the drovers boy
Forget about the drovers boy
And they couldnt understand why the drover cut
A lock of the dead boys hair
And put it in the band of his battered old hat
As they watched him standing there
And he told them
Take the cattle on, Ill sit with the boy a while.
A silent thought, a pipe to smoke
And its ride another mile
And forget about the drovers boy
Forget about the drovers boy
And they couldnt understand why the drover
And the boy had always camped so far away
For the tall white man and the slim black boy
Had never had much to say
And the boy would be gone at the break of dawn
Tail the horses, carry on
While the drover roused the sleeping men
Daylight, hit the road again.
And follow the drovers boy
Follow the drovers boy
In the Camooweal Pub they talked about
The death of the drovers boy
They drank their rum with a stranger
Whod come from a Kimberly-run Fitzroy
And he told of the massacre in the west
Barest details – guess the rest
Shoot the bucks, grab a chin
Cut her hair, break her in
And call her a boy, the drovers boy
Call her a boy, the drovers boy
So when they build that stockmans hall of fame
And they talk about the droving game
Remember the girl who was bedmate and guide
Rode with the drovers side-by-side
Watched the bullocks, flayed the hide
Faithful wife, but never a bride
Bred his sons for the cattle runs
But dont weep for the drovers boy
Dont mourn for the drovers boy
But dont forget the drovers boy