They couldn't understand why the drover cried
As they buried the drover's boy
For the drover had always seemed so hard
To the men in his employ
A bolting horse, a stirrup lost
And the drover's boy was dead
Shovelled dirt and a mumbled word
And it's back to the road ahead
And forget about the drover's boy
They couldn't understand why the drover cut
A lock of the dead boy's hair
He put it in the band of his battered old hat
As they watched him standing there
And he told them,
"Take the cattle on, I'll sit with the boy a while."
A silent thought, a pipe to smoke,
And it's ride another mile
And forget about the drover's boy
They couldn't 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 break of dawn
Tail the horses, carry on
While the drover roused the sleeping men;
"Daylight, hit the road again."
And follow the drover's boy
Follow the drover's boy
In the Camooweal Pub they talked about
The death of the drover's boy
They drank their rum with a stranger
Who'd 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 gin
Cut her hair, break her in
And call her a boy, the drover's boy
Call her a boy, the drover's boy
So when they build that stockman's hall of fame
And 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
Don't weep for the drover's boy
Don't mourn for the drover's boy
But don't forget the drover's boy