At Lightning Ridge

Don’t ask any questions
Don’t snoop around his claim
He’ll be out with a dog and a shotgun
Who knows what he’s hiding
Or why he makes his stand
Men like him are buried alive
With Opals in their hands
Well they say he came from Lismore
That’s about all we know
He came for a weekend only
Twenty years ago
Well he must have had money in the bank
Or he’s found a lot more than potch
For every month he sends a cab
For another case of scotch
He’s a dreamer, he’s a drinker
A Bull-Ant in a hole
He’s a schemer, He’s a thinker
He’s a lonely soul
He’s gouging for the opal
Like a Wombat or a Mole
Way out there at Lightning Ridge
Down below the Leopardwood
Below the Biblebox
Get your thrill on lunatic hill
Flashes of dancing colour, Green and Gold and Red
Mix it with black and you’re on your back
Digging until you’re dead
Well, It’s not about a fancy car
It’s not about the cash
They passed the hat for a swimming pool
And built it in a flash
No, It’s all about the Opal
You get it in your eye
You see a glimpse of heaven
With Angels in the sky