The Drovers Cook
I'd like to do a lively piece now. We've had a few serious ballads to start off with and once again

this is a fairly new one. I picked this story up in the Kimberley's a few years back and for the first

time in a song and for the first time on record I've used the great Australian adjective, but I feel

without using it you couldn't tell the story properly, not the way the average Australian would like

to hear it and that's the way I like to sing it. So it's the story of a rugged type of character - we

hope you like him anyway - and he's known as the drover's cook.



Now the drover's cook weighed fifteen stone and he had one blood shot eye

He had no laces in his boots and no buttons on his fly

His pants hung loosely 'round his hips, hitched by a piece of wire

And they concertinaed 'round his boots in a way that you'd admire



Well he stuck the billy on the boil and then emptied out his pipe

And with his greezy shirt sleeve, he gave his nose a wipe

And with pipe in mouth he mixed a sod and a drip hung from his chin

And as he mixed the damper up the drip kept dripping in



I walked quietly over to him and I said toss that mixture out

And in future when you're working keep your pipe out of your mouth

Oh-oh he stood erect and eyed me with such a dirty look

And he said in choice Australian, get another bloody cook



A cook, I said, you call yourself, you greezy slop made lout

Well you should be jailed for taking work that you cannot carry out

He then uncorked some language and I felt a thrill of fear

As he swung his hairy balls about and said trott your frame out here



In outback brawls there are no rules nor limits to the weight

So I had to swivel meet him with my meek and nine-stone-eight

And we