That tinpot town went and spat me out Onto that eastern track My Dad he gave me a month or two Before the city spat me back A flat bed truck picked me up And I crossed that great divide I had 3 good days 'til I spent my pay Now I'm on a downward slide
Oh I'm on a losing streak Down a paddle I'm up the creek Mercy be I'm on a losing streak
The city don't place any worth On a small town rouseabout I've never seen so many folks But so few who'll help you out Got a kitchen job to earn a bob Doing nine hours every night I called my Dad about six weeks in And said "Ya mongrel, you were right!"
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