Lyric Town With No Cheer
Well it s hotter n blazes and all the long faces
there ll be no oasis for a dry local grazier
there ll be no refreshment for a thirsty jackaroo
from Melbourne to Adelaide on the overlander
with newfangled buffet cars and faster locomotives
the train stopped in Serviceton less and less often
There s nothing sadder than a town with no cheer
VicRail decided the canteen was no longer necessary
there no spirits, no bilgewater and 80 dry locals
and the high noon sun beats a hundred and four
there s a hummingbird trapped in a closed down shoe store
This tiny Victorian rhubarb
kept the watering hole open for sixty five years
now it s boilin in a miserable March 21 st
wrapped the hills in a blanket of Patterson s curse
the train smokes down the xylophone
there ll be no stopping here
all ya can be is thirsty in a town with no cheer
no Bourbon, no Branchwater
though the townspeople here
fought the Vic Rail decree tooth and nail
now it s boilin in a miserable March 21 st
wrapped the hills in a blanket of Patterson s curse
the train smokes down the xylophone
there ll be no stopping here
all ya can be is thirsty in a town with no cheer
there ll be no oasis for a dry local grazier
there ll be no refreshment for a thirsty jackaroo
from Melbourne to Adelaide on the overlander
with newfangled buffet cars and faster locomotives
the train stopped in Serviceton less and less often
There s nothing sadder than a town with no cheer
VicRail decided the canteen was no longer necessary
there no spirits, no bilgewater and 80 dry locals
and the high noon sun beats a hundred and four
there s a hummingbird trapped in a closed down shoe store
This tiny Victorian rhubarb
kept the watering hole open for sixty five years
now it s boilin in a miserable March 21 st
wrapped the hills in a blanket of Patterson s curse
the train smokes down the xylophone
there ll be no stopping here
all ya can be is thirsty in a town with no cheer
no Bourbon, no Branchwater
though the townspeople here
fought the Vic Rail decree tooth and nail
now it s boilin in a miserable March 21 st
wrapped the hills in a blanket of Patterson s curse
the train smokes down the xylophone
there ll be no stopping here
all ya can be is thirsty in a town with no cheer