Nineteen Eighties Bushman On The Move

Intro
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Verse
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You're asking if I am the modern cowboy.
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Oh, I hardly know the meanin' of your term,

though a fancy truck I'm driving, day by day I’m striving
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for another job, and another quid to earn.
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My rig would be the best along these highways.
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In confidence I mention this to you,
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with my fingertips selectors and computerised injectors
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I’m a nineteen eighties bushman on the move.

Verse
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Oh, you’ve never see me in expensive moleskins.
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these Cuban heels I hardly can afford.

but I’m content to get along, in a dusty pair of battered thongs.
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hey, look this fancy t-shirt beats them all.
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Oh, I dig the homely beat of country music.
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and the honest story in a country song
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and my wheels are softly ringing to a country favourite singing.
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while this nineteen eighties bushman rolls along.

Verse
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Old Granddad worked these highways many years ago.
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I guess we'd think those years were pretty mean;

on the roughest track and byway, he shaped the future highway
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with dray and scoop and grader and his team.
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Oh, if only he were here to see the progress
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I wonder if the old man would approve,
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Of the paint job gaily matchin', all the brilliant chrome work flashin'
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And a Nineteen Eighties Bushman on the move. Oh yeah.

Instrumental
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A   A   D
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Verse
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Down below the border Carol's waiting
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In the morning she'll be watching for the rig,

She'll be laughing in the evening, be crying when I'm leaving
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Standing there a-waving with the kids,
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Oh, I often wonder  is it really worth it.
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Does my woman understand why I must roam?
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With these steering stabilizers, all the faster I can driver her
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I'm a Nineteen Eighties Bushman going home.

Break
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Verse
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The sun across the lonely west in blazing
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And the night that follows me is coming fast,

With the super snoopers' growlin', there’s a mobile radar prowlin'
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It looks as though I've found the bears at last.
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Oh, I wonder if they think that I'm a cowboy
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Well, they couldn't be much further from the truth.
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with my fingertips selectors and computerised injectors
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Of a Nineteen Eighties Bushman on the move.

Coda
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With my gleaming chimneys glinting, the tone of "Road Slave" hinting
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Of a nineteen eighties bushman on the move.

Outro
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