The Man Who Steadies The Lead

(album: The Man Who Steadies The Lead - 1980)

He was born in the light of red oaths and nursed by the drought and the flood
And swaddled in sweat lined saddle cloths and christened in spur drawn blood
Oh he never was burdened with learning and many would think him a fool
But he's mastered a method of turning that never was taught in a school
His manners are rugged and vulgar but his nuggets of gold in our need
And a lightning flash in the mulga is the man who steadies the lead

Now when the stockwhips are ringing behind him and the brumbies are racing abreast
Oh it's 50 to 1 you will find him a furlong to two from the rest
With the coils of his whip hanging idle, his eyes on the mob at his side
And the daintiest touch on the bridle for this is the man who can ride
And the stallions that break from the mallee will find he has courage and speed
For he rides the best horse in the valley this stockman who steadies the lead

When they're fetching in stores to the station through tangles of broken belar
And the road is a rough calculation that's based on the blaze of a star
When they're quickening through sand ridge and hollow and rowels are splattered with red
And sometimes you've only to follow the sound of the hoofbeat ahead
Then we know that he's holding them northward oh we trust in the man and his steed
And we hear the old brown crashing forward and his rider's wild yell to the lead
(Hey!)

But when from a bend in the river the cattle break camp in the night
Oh then is the season if ever we value his services right
For we know that if some should be tardy and some should be should be left in the race
Yet the spurs will be red on Coolgardie as someone swings out to his place
And the mulga boughs hark to them breaking in front of the maddened stampede
And a horse and rider are taking their time honoured place in the lead

Now as an honest and impartial recorder I'd fain have you all recollect
There are other brave men on the border entitled to every respect
There's the man who thinks buckin's a tame thing and he rides them with lighted cigars
And the man who will drive any damn thing that's ever been hooked to the bars
Oh their pluck and their powers are granted but all said and done we've agreed
That the king of 'em all when he's wanted is the man who steadies the lead

(Here we go now!)
He was born in the light of red oaks and nursed by the drought and the flood
And swaddled in sweat lined saddlecloths and christened in spur drawn blood
Oh he never was burdened with learning and many would think him a fool