They couldn't understand why the drover cried As they buried the drover's boy For the drover had always seemed so hard To the men in his employ A bolting horse, a stirrup lost And the drover's boy was dead Shovelled dirt and a mumbled word And it's back to the road ahead And forget about the drover's boy They couldn't understand why the drover cut A lock of the dead boy's hair He put it in the band of his battered old hat As they watched him standing there And he told them, "Take the cattle on, I'll sit with the boy a while." A silent thought, a pipe to smoke, And it's ride another mile And forget about the drover's boy They couldn't understand why the drover And the boy had always camped so far away For the tall white man and the slim black boy Had never had much to say And the boy would be gone at break of dawn Tail the horses, carry on While the drover roused the sleeping men; "Daylight, hit the road again." And follow the drover's boy Follow the drover's boy In the Camooweal Pub they talked about The death of the drover's boy They drank their rum with a stranger Who'd come from a Kimberly-run Fitzroy And he told of the massacre in the west Barest details - guess the rest Shoot the bucks, grab a gin Cut her hair, break her in And call her a boy, the drover's boy Call her a boy, the drover's boy So when they build that stockman's hall of fame And talk about the droving game Remember the girl who was bedmate and guide Rode with the drovers side-by-side Watched the bullocks, flayed the hide Faithful wife, but never a bride Bred his sons for the cattle runs Don't weep for the drover's boy Don't mourn for the drover's boy But don't forget the drover's boy