KUBOTA

Australian bush country rock/Aussie folk bush ballad

(Verse 1)
The morning sun is climbing high o'er the Tirroan hills,
Where the red dust meets the cane fields and the quiet country stills.
Les steps out into the yard, a welder in his hand,
Looking at the little beast he uses for the land.
A classic '72 model, she’s battered and she’s worn,
In that old-school red Kubota coat from back when she was born.
(Chorus)
Oh, the red Kubota’s humming steady down along the track,
Doing jobs that should be breaking any bigger tractor's back.
From the rows of sugarcane right down to the creek bed low,
There ain't a job in all Tirroan that old girl doesn’t know.
(Verse 2)
He landscaped the entire farm, changed the way it looks,
Doing heavy earthworks that are never in the books.
It matches giant bulldozers for muscle and for grit,
As Les pushes the boundaries of every single bit.
It pulls out stubborn gum trees, tearing up the roots,
And digs the heavy clay right out from underneath his boots.
It drags the massive hardwood logs across the paddock floor,
Always punching well above its weight and asking him for more.
(Chorus)
Oh, the red Kubota’s humming steady down along the track,
Doing jobs that should be breaking any bigger tractor's back.
From the rows of sugarcane right down to the creek bed low,
There ain't a job in all Tirroan that old girl doesn’t know.
(Bridge)
But she wasn't built for mining work or clearing out the scrub,
So something's always snapping from the gearbox to the hub!
Because it does the work of giants, it breaks down all the time,
A loud metallic protest as it tries to make the climb.
And she’s fifty-plus years older now, the parts are hard to find,
You cannot buy the pieces that the factory designed.
(Verse 3)
But Les don't give up easy when the steel begins to crack,
He fires up the workshop and he gets her right on track.
He welds the frame together and he bolts the brackets tight,
Engineering miracles to make it run just right.
A bit of scrap, an iron plate, a brand new custom seam,
Les keeps that '72 alive on a prayer and a beam.
(Outro)
So here’s to Les and his red Kubota out Tirroan way,
Welded, bolted, patched up good to fight another day.
The engine rests in silence now beneath the starry skies,
Until it breaks tomorrow when the morning sun will rise!

2258/7500

(Verse 1) The morning sun is climbing high o'er the Tirroan hills, Where the red dust meets the cane fields and the quiet country stills. Les steps out into the yard, a welder in his hand, Looking at the little beast he uses for the land. A classic '72 model, she’s battered and she’s worn, In that old-school red Kubota coat from back when she was born. (Chorus) Oh, the red Kubota’s humming steady down along the track, Doing jobs that should be breaking any bigger tractor's back. From the rows of sugarcane right down to the creek bed low, There ain't a job in all Tirroan that old girl doesn’t know. (Verse 2) He landscaped the entire farm, changed the way it looks, Doing heavy earthworks that are never in the books. It matches giant bulldozers for muscle and for grit, As Les pushes the boundaries of every single bit. It pulls out stubborn gum trees, tearing up the roots, And digs the heavy clay right out from underneath his boots. It drags the massive hardwood logs across the paddock floor, Always punching well above its weight and asking him for more. (Chorus) Oh, the red Kubota’s humming steady down along the track, Doing jobs that should be breaking any bigger tractor's back. From the rows of sugarcane right down to the creek bed low, There ain't a job in all Tirroan that old girl doesn’t know. (Bridge) But she wasn't built for mining work or clearing out the scrub, So something's always snapping from the gearbox to the hub! Because it does the work of giants, it breaks down all the time, A loud metallic protest as it tries to make the climb. And she’s fifty-plus years older now, the parts are hard to find, You cannot buy the pieces that the factory designed. (Verse 3) But Les don't give up easy when the steel begins to crack, He fires up the workshop and he gets her right on track. He welds the frame together and he bolts the brackets tight, Engineering miracles to make it run just right. A bit of scrap, an iron plate, a brand new custom seam, Les keeps that '72 alive on a prayer and a beam. (Outro) So here’s to Les and his red Kubota out Tirroan way, Welded, bolted, patched up good to fight another day. The engine rests in silence now beneath the starry skies, Until it breaks tomorrow when the morning sun will rise!

0/500