The Telegraph Track
By Robert and Laundon Peacock
Chorus
As we travel the corrugated telegraph track
And we run down the
creek with the mud on our backs
The bonnet goes under, but we don’t care
The
wheels skid around but that’s very rare
We’re heading to the top ooh aah We’re heading to the top ooh aah
Bommies in the saucepan at the falls was fun,
Drying on a rock and lying in the sun.
Sometimes we found a nice quiet track,
And skinny dipped in the
creek til the cars came back.
The people we have met have the strangest names,
From Europe, Round Oz and the river Thames.
Like Groot, Hettie, Ootto and Hans,
Brian and Lucy, Shazza and Stan.
Chorus
As we travel the corrugated telegraph track
And we run down the
creek with the mud on our backs
The bonnet goes under, but we don’t care
The
wheels skid around bur that’s very rare
We’re heading to the top ooh aah We’re heading to the top ooh aah
A few days rest at Vrilya beach,
Caught eighteen in all, that’s three fish each.
Like cod, flathead, trevally and bream,
It was the grunters and the jacks that made us grin.
We’ve had a good week, not much school’s been done,
Because of corrugations we can’t do sums.
No reading, or writing, no ‘rithmetic,
Mum got so flustered she gave school the flick.
Chorus
As we travel the corrugated telegraph track
And we run down the
creek with the mud on our backs
The bonnet goes under, but we don’t care
The
wheels skid around bur that’s very rare
We’re heading to the top ooh aah We’re heading to the top ooh aah
At night we’d sit around the
camp fire,
Talking about all our flat tyres.
Let alone two springs on the trailer that are dead,
And our teeth keep chattering even in bed.
At last we get there,
the tip’s in site,
Dad’s GPS said the
sign wasn’t right.
We wet our feet at the northern most point,
And climbed back slowly with very sore joints.
Chorus
As we travel the corrugated telegraph track
And we run down the
creek with the mud on our backs
The bonnet goes under, but we don’t care
The
wheels skid around bur that’s very rare
We’re heading to the top ooh aah We’re heading to the top ooh aah
We’re off to
Cairns now for repairs and spares,
To try and avoid any more snares.
It’s not the way we were hoping to go,
But the safest for sure ‘cause you never know.
That’s about it for the telegraph track,
Up the rough rugged road of the cape’s outback.
Down for an icecream and to hit the mall,
Goodbye
Cape York and goodnight all.
Copyright Robert & Laundon Peacock.