That tinpot town went and spat me out

Onto that eastern track

My Dad he gave me a month or two

Before the city spat me back

A flat bed truck picked me up

And I crossed that great divide

I had 3 good days 'til I spent my pay

Now I'm on a downward slide

Oh I'm on a losing streak

Down a paddle I'm up the creek

Mercy be

I'm on a losing streak

The city don't place any worth

On a small town rouseabout

I've never seen so many folks

But so few who'll help you out

Got a kitchen job to earn a bob

Doing nine hours every night

I called my Dad about six weeks in

And said "Ya mongrel, you were right!"