Over the course of his career, he collected more gold and platinum albums than any other Australian artist.
Dusty not only recorded songs written by himself and other fellow Australian performers, but also recorded classic Australian poems by Henry Lawson and Banjo Paterson with new tunes, to call attention to the old 'Bush Ballads.' An example is The Man from Snowy River by Paterson.
In 1970, he was made a Member of the Order of the British Empire for services to music. In 1971 he won Best Single at the Australian Country Music Awards at the Tamworth Country Music Festival (Slim's wife Joy McKean won Song of the Year as writer of the song for which he won best single). In all, he won a record 35 "Golden Guitars" over the years.
He died at home in St Ives, New South Wales on 19 September 2003 after a protracted battle with cancer, at age 76.
The Slim Dusty Story started back in the 1940s on a remote dairy farm in the hills behind Kempsey, NSW, when a 10-year-old boy dreamed of being a country music singer. His name was David Gordon Kirkpatrick... he called himself "Slim Dusty" and began to live that dream.
But even the most optimistic farm boy would never have imagined the life that was to unfold... a life that would establish Slim as the voice of the nation, the chronicler of Australian history in song.
Slim managed to hold on to those early visions of writing and singing about the bush because during his lengthy career, he always stayed in touch with his audience. And he did this in a very real and meaningful way, so much so that his fans would feel that Slim was one of their mates and his songs "just a good yarn you might hear from a mate at the pub, around a campfire in the bush or at a back yard barbie".
He described his music as "songs about real Australians... "I have to be fair dinkum with my audience. I can't see any other way of doing it," he said. "You have to believe in what you are singing about."
Slim Dusty was the first Australian to have a number one hit record and the only Australian to ever receive a 78rpm Gold Record (for A Pub With No Beer in 1958)...
He was the first Australian to have an international record hit and the first singer in the world to have his voice beamed to earth from space (astronauts Bob Crippen and John Young played Slim's recording of Waltzing Matilda from the space shuttle "Columbia" as it passed over Australia back in 1983).
During an amazingly successful career spanning over six decades, Slims' continued popularity saw him rewarded with more Gold and Platinum Awards for sales of his singles, eight-tracks, cassettes, CD's, videos and DVDs... more than any other Australian artist!
He received an unequaled 37 Golden Guitar Awards, two ARIA's (Australian Recording Industry Association awards), inductions into the ARIA Hall of Fame and the Australian Country Music Roll of Renown.
Slim was recognized for his long time services to Australian entertainment with an MBE and an Order of Australia. In 1999, Prime Minister John Howard named Slim Dusty Australia's Father of the Year and Senior Australian of the Year. There were many other awards and honors... too many to name here!
Dusty died at his home in St Ives, New South Wales on 19 September 2003 at the age of 76, after a protracted battle with cancer.
Dribbler Bill
Slim Dusty Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
He drove the mail on Bridal Tracks in country soft & rigid,
Never had too much to say but when he did was just a drawl,
And ya’ kinda got the feelin', he'd be handy in a brawl.
His Leyland truck was like ole Bill, gusty, rough and slow.
He took that truck through country where a dozer wouldn't go,
Yeah, but he's been bogged down tyre deep, back in Coober Hole,
Now old Bill would do those little things for bush folk far from town,
Had a memory like Sir Sydney, never wrote the items down,
Newspapers he would put inside, mailbox on the ridge,
And every stop along the way, had somethin' for the kids.
He was seen to be a lonely man like one deprived of luck,
An outward sign did only make was that old Leyland truck,
He'd caress that smooth ole steerin' wheel, ease along the track,
The last words that I heard him say was, "See ya later Jack."
Instrumental
Now the mail still serves the far outback, the jobs they handle fine,
But mem'ries dwell on Dribbler Bill way back in '39,
I remember every mail night, the excitement and the thrill,
As we sat outside and waited for the likes of Dribbler Bill.
Oh, there's many times he helped us out when tucker got real slack.
Like fresh meat from the bullocks secured from somewhere up the track,
Yeah, great old man was Dribbler Bill the kind who’d always stick,
And he'd risk his life without a thought for the needy and the sick. Hey!
Now I'd like to think that Dribbler Bill still has the wheel in hand,
Pushin' that old Leyland truck throughout that channel land,
Should there be no trucks in heaven, it’s a halo to a pup,
Just give old Bill a day or two and he'll start a mail run up.
Spoken Yeah so long Bill.
The song "Dribbler Bill" by Slim Dusty tells the story of a mailman named Dribbler Bill who worked on Bridal Tracks, an outback route in Australia in 1939. Bill was a well-built man with a tough exterior, but he had a gentle heart and would go to great lengths to help people in the bush. He drove an old Leyland truck, which was just as rugged and resilient as he was, but slow and gusty too. Bill had a drawling way of talking and would keep quiet most of the time, but he never forgot anything and could recall details quickly, without having to write anything down. He would drop newspapers off in mailboxes, and he always had something for the children at every stop along the way. As a true friend of the bush, Bill helped others during times of need, and he never once thought twice about risking his life to help others in their time of need.
The lyrics of "Dribbler Bill" highlight the figure of a solitary man, who spent most of his life behind the wheel of his truck, bringing hope and companionship to people in the outback. He was always willing to go the extra mile to bring the mail, supplies, and even fresh meat to those in need. And even though he was a loyal friend to many, he remained a lone figure throughout his life, with only his old truck for company. The song not only tells Bill's story but also pays tribute to the history of the outback mail service and the role that these brave mailmen and women played in keeping the bush connected to the outside world.
Line by Line Meaning
I see him still ole Dribbler Bill, his frame as hard as gidgee,
I can still remember Dribbler Bill, a tough old man with weathered skin like the gidgee tree.
He drove the mail on Bridal Tracks in country soft & rigid,
Bill would drive the mail out to people in the hard-to-reach locations of the countryside.
Never had too much to say but when he did was just a drawl,
Bill didn't talk much but when he did it was in a slow drawl.
And ya’ kinda got the feelin', he'd be handy in a brawl.
Despite his quiet nature, there was a sense that Bill would be a good fighter if he needed to be.
His Leyland truck was like ole Bill, gusty, rough and slow.
Bill's truck was as tough and rugged as he was, and not very fast.
He took that truck through country where a dozer wouldn't go,
Bill's truck was rugged enough to take him through places where even a bulldozer couldn't pass.
Yeah, but he's been bogged down tyre deep, back in Coober Hole,
Despite his truck's toughness, Bill had been stuck in the mud up to his tires in Coober Hole.
When others turned their trucks around and headed back for home.
While others gave up and turned around, Bill kept going and didn't give up.
Now old Bill would do those little things for bush folk far from town,
Bill would always go the extra mile to help out people who lived far away from town.
Had a memory like Sir Sydney, never wrote the items down,
Bill had an incredible memory and never needed to write the things he needed to remember down.
Newspapers he would put inside, mailbox on the ridge,
Bill would leave newspapers in people's mailboxes along his route that were located on the ridge.
And every stop along the way, had somethin' for the kids.
Bill would always have something for the kids at every stop along his mail route.
He was seen to be a lonely man like one deprived of luck,
Bill seemed like a lonely man, as if he was unlucky in life.
An outward sign did only make was that old Leyland truck,
His only outward expression of who he was, was his weathered Leyland truck.
He'd caress that smooth ole steerin' wheel, ease along the track,
Bill would gently touch the steering wheel and drive comfortably through the countryside.
The last words that I heard him say was, 'See ya later Jack.'
The last thing Bill said to me was 'goodbye'.
Now the mail still serves the far outback, the jobs they handle fine,
While the mail still goes out to the far outback today, it's not quite the same as when Bill was doing it.
But mem'ries dwell on Dribbler Bill way back in '39,
People still remember Dribbler Bill and his mail route from back in 1939.
I remember every mail night, the excitement and the thrill,
I can remember the excitement and anticipation of mail night when Bill would arrive.
As we sat outside and waited for the likes of Dribbler Bill.
We would wait outside for Bill to show up and bring us our mail.
Oh, there's many times he helped us out when tucker got real slack.
Bill helped us out a lot when we were running low on food.
Like fresh meat from the bullocks secured from somewhere up the track,
He would go out of his way to bring us fresh meat from the bullocks up the track.
Yeah, great old man was Dribbler Bill the kind who’d always stick,
Bill was a great man who was always there to help people out and support them.
And he'd risk his life without a thought for the needy and the sick. Hey!
He would put his own life on the line to help out those who were sick or in need.
Now I'd like to think that Dribbler Bill still has the wheel in hand,
I like to imagine that Bill is still out there driving his old Leyland truck.
Pushin' that old Leyland truck throughout that channel land,
Driving his truck across the vast expanse of the rural countryside.
Should there be no trucks in heaven, it’s a halo to a pup,
If there are no trucks in heaven, then Bill's truck is like a halo to him in the afterlife.
Just give old Bill a day or two and he'll start a mail run up.
Bill would never stop doing what he loved, even in the afterlife he would find a way to continue his mail route.
Spoken Yeah so long Bill.
Farewell, Bill.
Contributed by Zachary Y. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
@discodags68
loved it