Arcadia Valley

Arcadia station has been cut into smaller blocks
new hones have been built upon the untamed land
and the graziers now, breed the best of station stock
in the beautiful valley in the Canarvon land
where the wild scrub bulls
with their mobs of cleanskins
would march into water just on sundown
then they ate the grass along the open valley
but at the crack of dawn
they were back in their hidin' ground
Away out there, where the wild Canarvon ranges rise
where the scrubbers used to roam
and the brigalow was their home
The scrubber runners
with their terriers and tie in straps
they could ride through the brigalow and never make a sound
but when the wallabys rushed
and the timber’s fallin' down
then the riders knew that the wild ones had been found
They’d follow their tails till they came to an open spot
then they’d call on their spurs and shoulder the best ones round
then they’d throw 'em by the tails
cut their horns and tie their legs
while the mob fanned out and made for safer ground
Away out there, where the wild Canarvon ranges rise
where the scrubbers used to roam
and the brigalow was their home
The scrubber runner is a wild and wiry
his life depends on his judgement of man and beast
and the ridin’s wild and there’s danger in the air
when the all fours of a scrub bull are released
but the scrubbers are gone from Arcadia valley
and every cattle pad the scrubber runner knows
and the brigalow scrub has been pulled and burned up
cultivation now where the old brown river flowed
Away out there where the wild Canarvon ranges rise
where the scrubbers used to roam
and the brigalow was their home
and the brigalow was their home
and the brigalow was their home
and the brigalow was their home