Horse And Hobble Days
Slim Dusty Lyrics


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Oh I′ll take you back to the good old days when our beards hung down our chest
When bullocks hauled the woolclip in and we turned in fully dressed
They were rough and rowdy mustering camps and wild bulls on the prod
Those horse and hobble days were best when we swung the greenhide rod

Singing hobbles horsebells and halters as we ride over gibber and sand
Singing surcingles stockwhips and saddles and the greasy kip reins in our hands
Oh the bush was such a lively place and the men were likewise too
There were teamsters moving up the track and drovers travelling through
Colt breakers with their tackling gear and the dogger armed with bait
Canteen and springside leggings, horse and hobble days were great

Singing bridles bullwhips and buckers as we ride round the bullocks at night
Singing saddlebags quartpots and scrubbers oh they won't rush but maybe they might

Oh I cut my teeth on a bridle bit and was raised on damper crust
Chased a bull and ever since my friend I′ve been swallowing cattle dust
Now the Mitchell grass has been my bed and a kneepad for a rest
When yarramans wore the neck straps horse and hobble days were best





Singing cattle camps scrubbers and slush lamps as we ride back to camp in the west
Singing scrub dashing ringers and mickys oh the old hobble days were the best

Overall Meaning

In the song "Horse and Hobble Days" by Slim Dusty, the singer takes the listener back to an older time when life was simpler and more rugged. The days of horse and hobble, where the beards of men draped down their chest and they wore fully dressed while turning in, were rough and rowdy. The singer describes the days of mustering camps and wild bulls on the prod, and the excitement of swinging the greenhide rod. The bush was a lively place where men moved up the track and drovers travelled through. The colt breakers with their tackling gear, and the dogger armed with bait were all part of the experience. The canteen and springside leggings were all part of the culture of the horse and hobble days.


The singer mentions singing hobbles, horsebells, and halters as they rode over gibber and sand. There were also surcingles, stockwhips, saddles, and greasy kip reins in their hands. They sang as they rode round the bullocks at night, and even mentioned saddlebags, quartpots and scrubbers. The old hobble days were great days, filled with camaraderie, excitement, and adventure.


Line by Line Meaning

Oh I'll take you back to the good old days when our beards hung down our chest
Let me take you back to a time when things were simpler and tougher and men were rough and hardy, with big bushy beards.


When bullocks hauled the woolclip in and we turned in fully dressed
When working animals like bullocks did the heavy lifting and men slept fully clothed after working hard.


They were rough and rowdy mustering camps and wild bulls on the prod
These were untamed times when the camps were wild and men had to deal with unpredictable animals like wild bulls.


Those horse and hobble days were best when we swung the greenhide rod
The best days were the ones when they had to put in a lot of work and used tools like greenhide rods, as it made them feel more accomplished.


Singing hobbles horsebells and halters as we ride over gibber and sand
Making music with the sound of hobbles, horsebells, and halters while riding over rough terrain like gibber and sand.


Singing surcingles stockwhips and saddles and the greasy kip reins in our hands
Making music with the sound of surcingles, stockwhips, saddles, and using the greasy kip reins in their hands as they worked hard.


Oh the bush was such a lively place and the men were likewise too
The bush was full of life and energy, as were the men who worked in it.


There were teamsters moving up the track and drovers travelling through
There were people moving through the area, like teamsters and drovers, looking to get work done.


Colt breakers with their tackling gear and the dogger armed with bait
There were colt breakers with their tools ready to break in young horses and doggers armed with bait to catch wild dogs.


Canteen and springside leggings, horse and hobble days were great
Life was simpler back then, with just a canteen and springside leggings and working with horses and hobbles was great for these men.


Singing bridles bullwhips and buckers as we ride round the bullocks at night
Making music with the sound of bridles, bullwhips, and buckers while working at night on rounding up bullocks.


Singing saddlebags quartpots and scrubbers oh they won't rush but maybe they might
Making music with the sound of saddlebags, quartpots, and scrubbers while doing some work that might not be too tough, but still requires caution.


Oh I cut my teeth on a bridle bit and was raised on damper crust
I learned how to work with horses from a young age and grew up eating simple, bread-like damper crust.


Chased a bull and ever since my friend I've been swallowing cattle dust
From chasing a young bull to working with cattle, the singer has always been surrounded by dust kicked up by animals.


Now the Mitchell grass has been my bed and a kneepad for a rest
After working hard, the singer rests on kneepads made from Mitchell grass.


When yarramans wore the neck straps horse and hobble days were best
The best days were when yarramans, or people who work with horses, had to wear neck straps while using hobbles.


Singing cattle camps scrubbers and slush lamps as we ride back to camp in the west
Making music with the sound of cattle camps, scrubbers, and slush lamps while riding back to their western camp.


Singing scrub dashing ringers and mickys oh the old hobble days were the best
Making music with the sound of scrub dashing, ringers, and mickys while working with hobbles – these were the best days.




Writer(s): Joe Daly, David Kirkpatrick

Contributed by Avery L. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
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Sandra


on One Truckie's Epitaph

My brother Terry Radke was the man Slim wrote the song for after he received a letter from Terry's youngest son, Lync. Thank you

Charley Boyter


on Axe Mark On a Gidgee

With horsebells to keep me company

Jake


on Your Country's Been Sold

You say you belong to Australia my friend
And rightly you’d die for this land to defend
But let us be honest, it’s sad but it’s true
Australia my friend doesn’t belong to you

Our country’s been sold by the powers that be
To big wealthy nations way over the sea
We couldn’t be taken by bayonets or lead
And so they decided to buy us instead

And talking of wars and the blood that was spilled
The widows, the crippled, the ones that were killed
And I often wonder if their ghosts can see
What’s happening now to their native country

I wonder if ghosts of the fallen can see
The crime and corruption and vast poverty
With a lost generation of youth on the dole
Who drift on life’s ocean without any goal

I once had a dream of our country so grand
The rivers outback irrigated the land
With towns and canals in that wasteland out there
And big inland cities with work everywhere

With profit from farming and factory and mine
Was used to develop a nation so fine
Then I woke from my dream into reality
That the wealth of our nation goes over the sea

Yeah you say you belong to Australia my friend
And rightly you’d die for this land to defend
But let us be honest, it’s sad but it’s true
Australia my friend doesn’t belong to you