Verse 1 Drifter, swagman, wanderer.... the names he's called by, Half the roads of New South Wales beneath his boots gone dry, Up through Queensland’s burning stretch, down Victoria’s bend, Forty-odd years of walking roads that never seem to end. Verse 2 Once a man of polished shoes, a banker in a tie, Fluorescent lights and ledger lines reflected in his eye, Packed a few essentials.... thought he'd clear his head awhile, Never meant to trade the clock for forty years of mile on mile. Chorus They call him the Highway Man, stride steady, slow and free, Canvas camp beneath the stars, where most won’t dare to be, Great Aussie spirit in a weathered, sun-browned frame, Do what you like and can, he says.... and never chase the fame. Verse 3 Many pairs of shoes worn thin, shirts faded by the sun, Found his way by backroad maps where lonely rivers run, Funded days by honest graft, a job here and there, Not living off a government cheque.... just grit and open air. Verse 4 He’s faced the freezing winter nights tucked deep among the trees, Canvas pulled against the rain and bitter country breeze, Found a safe spot off the road where headlights couldn’t roam, Made the bush his shelter, and the open land his home. Chorus They call him the Highway Man, stride steady, slow and free, Miles behind and miles ahead in quiet dignity, Great Aussie spirit in a weathered, sun-browned frame, Do what you like and can.... and don’t apologise for the same. Bridge Lord, the tales he holds inside.... some tender, some severe, Moments born of beauty, and some edged in fear, But these days there’s a thousand eyes that follow where he goes, A Facebook page that tracks his path along the inland roads. Cuppers, pies and worn-out boots replaced by caring hands, Shirts and meals and quiet chats in country towns and lands, They keep tabs on his wellbeing, his safety in the night, And lean in close to hear the stories told by campfire light. Final Chorus He’s still the Highway Man, not finished yet they say, Still chasing peace and solitude along the red-dust way, Inspires a nation quietly with every step he’s ran, Drifter, swagman, wanderer.... just doing what he can. Outro (spoken feel) Forty years of walking… And he’s not done yet. Some blokes retire to comfort.... Some just keep on stepping. [short music outro]
