Chords for Slim Dusty - The Drover's Cook Live
Tempo:
126.5 bpm
Chords used:
G
D
C
A
Ab
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
Thank you very much everyone.
I'd like to do a lively piece now.
We've had a few serious ballads to start off with.
And once again, this is a fairly new one.
I picked this story up in the Kimberleys a few years back.
[Ab] And for the first time in a song, and for the first time on record, I've used the great Australian adjective.
But I feel without using it, you couldn't tell the story properly.
Not the way the average Australian would like to hear it.
[G] And that's the way I like to sing it.
So it's the story [A] of a rugged type of character.
We hope you like him anyway.
And he's [B] known as the Drover's Cook.
[A] [G]
Now the Drover's Cook weighed fifteen [D] stone and he had one bloodshot eye.
He had no laces in his boots [G] and no buttons on his fly.
His pants hung loosely round his [C] hips, hitched by a piece of wire.
[D] And they concertined it round his boots [A] in a way [G] that you'd admire.
[Bm] Well he stuck the billy on the boil [D] and then emptied out his pipe.
And with his greasy shirt sleeve, he [G] gave his nose a wipe.
And with pipe in mouth he mixed a sod and [C] a drip come from his chin.
[D] And as he mixed the damper up, the drip kept [G] dripping in.
I walked quietly over to him and I [D] said, toss that mixture out.
And in future when you're working, [G] keep your pipe out of your mouth.
Oh he stood erect and eyed me with [C] such a dirty look.
[D] And he said, in choice Australian, get another [G] bloody cook.
And we said, a cook I said you call [D] yourself, you greasy slop-maid-lout.
Why you should be jailed for taking [G] work that you cannot carry out.
He then uncorked some language and [C] I felt a thrill of fear.
As [D] he swung his hairy paws about and said, trot your frame [G] out here.
In outback brawls there are no [D] rules, no limits to the weight.
So I had to squibble meet him [G] with my meek and iron-snowen aid.
And we both bounced into action [C] and fell into a clinch.
[G]
I [D] put a headlock on him, but I couldn't [G] make him flinch.
For hours we fought in deathly grip, [D] swung up for cuts and crosses.
We staggered and floundered in distress [G] like broken-winded horses.
Then gaspingly he muttered, [C] oh I fought all through the north.
[D] You're the gamest thing I've ever struck, give [G] me a hand old sport.
[D] Well I can't explain my feelings, with joy I nearly cried.
As we staggered to a shade close by [G] where he sang down and died.
Now you talk about that salt-bush [C] scrap, why it was only play.
[D] Compared to the grueling battle, we fought [G] that fatal day.
[D] Now above his resting place where the grass has grown to seed.
On stone is carved a separate path [G] for travellers to read.
Here lies the son of Donald Gunn, [C] none gamer ever stood.
[D] And he died in dinkum battle with Jimmy [G] Underwood.
[C] [G] [N]
I'd like to do a lively piece now.
We've had a few serious ballads to start off with.
And once again, this is a fairly new one.
I picked this story up in the Kimberleys a few years back.
[Ab] And for the first time in a song, and for the first time on record, I've used the great Australian adjective.
But I feel without using it, you couldn't tell the story properly.
Not the way the average Australian would like to hear it.
[G] And that's the way I like to sing it.
So it's the story [A] of a rugged type of character.
We hope you like him anyway.
And he's [B] known as the Drover's Cook.
[A] [G]
Now the Drover's Cook weighed fifteen [D] stone and he had one bloodshot eye.
He had no laces in his boots [G] and no buttons on his fly.
His pants hung loosely round his [C] hips, hitched by a piece of wire.
[D] And they concertined it round his boots [A] in a way [G] that you'd admire.
[Bm] Well he stuck the billy on the boil [D] and then emptied out his pipe.
And with his greasy shirt sleeve, he [G] gave his nose a wipe.
And with pipe in mouth he mixed a sod and [C] a drip come from his chin.
[D] And as he mixed the damper up, the drip kept [G] dripping in.
I walked quietly over to him and I [D] said, toss that mixture out.
And in future when you're working, [G] keep your pipe out of your mouth.
Oh he stood erect and eyed me with [C] such a dirty look.
[D] And he said, in choice Australian, get another [G] bloody cook.
And we said, a cook I said you call [D] yourself, you greasy slop-maid-lout.
Why you should be jailed for taking [G] work that you cannot carry out.
He then uncorked some language and [C] I felt a thrill of fear.
As [D] he swung his hairy paws about and said, trot your frame [G] out here.
In outback brawls there are no [D] rules, no limits to the weight.
So I had to squibble meet him [G] with my meek and iron-snowen aid.
And we both bounced into action [C] and fell into a clinch.
[G]
I [D] put a headlock on him, but I couldn't [G] make him flinch.
For hours we fought in deathly grip, [D] swung up for cuts and crosses.
We staggered and floundered in distress [G] like broken-winded horses.
Then gaspingly he muttered, [C] oh I fought all through the north.
[D] You're the gamest thing I've ever struck, give [G] me a hand old sport.
[D] Well I can't explain my feelings, with joy I nearly cried.
As we staggered to a shade close by [G] where he sang down and died.
Now you talk about that salt-bush [C] scrap, why it was only play.
[D] Compared to the grueling battle, we fought [G] that fatal day.
[D] Now above his resting place where the grass has grown to seed.
On stone is carved a separate path [G] for travellers to read.
Here lies the son of Donald Gunn, [C] none gamer ever stood.
[D] And he died in dinkum battle with Jimmy [G] Underwood.
[C] [G] [N]
Key:
G
D
C
A
Ab
G
D
C
Thank you very much everyone.
I'd like to do a lively piece now.
We've had a few serious ballads to start off with.
And once again, this is a fairly new one.
I picked this story up in the Kimberleys a few years back.
[Ab] And for the first time in a song, and for the first time on record, I've used the great Australian adjective.
But I feel without using it, you couldn't tell the story properly.
Not the way the average Australian would like to hear it.
[G] And that's the way I like to sing it.
So it's the story [A] of a rugged type of character.
We hope you like him anyway.
And he's [B] known as the Drover's Cook.
[A] _ [G] _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ Now the Drover's Cook weighed fifteen [D] stone and he had one bloodshot eye.
He had no laces in his boots [G] and no buttons on his fly. _
_ _ His pants hung loosely round his [C] hips, hitched by a piece of wire.
[D] And they concertined it round his boots [A] in a way [G] that you'd admire. _ _ _ _ _
_ [Bm] Well he stuck the billy on the boil [D] and then emptied out his pipe.
And with his greasy shirt sleeve, he [G] gave his nose a wipe.
And with pipe in mouth he mixed a sod and [C] a drip come from his chin.
[D] And as he mixed the damper up, the drip kept [G] dripping in. _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ I walked quietly over to him and I [D] said, toss that mixture out.
And in future when you're working, [G] keep your pipe out of your mouth.
Oh he stood erect and eyed me with [C] such a dirty look.
[D] And he said, in choice Australian, get another [G] bloody cook.
And we said, _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
a cook I said you call [D] yourself, you greasy slop-maid-lout.
Why you should be jailed for taking [G] work that you cannot carry out.
He then uncorked some language and [C] I felt a thrill of fear.
As [D] he swung his hairy paws about and said, trot your frame [G] out here.
_ _ _ _ _ _ In outback brawls there are no [D] rules, no limits to the weight.
So I had to squibble meet him [G] with my meek and iron-snowen aid.
And we both bounced into action [C] and fell into a clinch.
[G]
I [D] put a headlock on him, but I couldn't [G] make him flinch.
_ _ For hours we fought in deathly grip, [D] swung up for cuts and crosses.
We staggered and floundered in distress [G] like broken-winded horses.
Then gaspingly he muttered, [C] oh I fought all through the north.
[D] You're the gamest thing I've ever struck, give [G] me a hand old sport. _ _ _ _
_ [D] Well I can't explain my feelings, with joy I nearly cried.
As we staggered to a shade close by [G] where he sang down and died.
Now you talk about that salt-bush [C] scrap, why it was only play.
[D] Compared to the grueling battle, we fought [G] that fatal day. _ _ _ _
_ _ [D] Now above his resting place where the grass has grown to seed.
On stone is carved a separate path [G] for travellers to read.
Here lies the son of Donald Gunn, [C] none gamer ever stood.
[D] And he died in dinkum battle with Jimmy _ [G] _ Underwood.
[C] _ _ [G] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ [N] _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
I'd like to do a lively piece now.
We've had a few serious ballads to start off with.
And once again, this is a fairly new one.
I picked this story up in the Kimberleys a few years back.
[Ab] And for the first time in a song, and for the first time on record, I've used the great Australian adjective.
But I feel without using it, you couldn't tell the story properly.
Not the way the average Australian would like to hear it.
[G] And that's the way I like to sing it.
So it's the story [A] of a rugged type of character.
We hope you like him anyway.
And he's [B] known as the Drover's Cook.
[A] _ [G] _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ Now the Drover's Cook weighed fifteen [D] stone and he had one bloodshot eye.
He had no laces in his boots [G] and no buttons on his fly. _
_ _ His pants hung loosely round his [C] hips, hitched by a piece of wire.
[D] And they concertined it round his boots [A] in a way [G] that you'd admire. _ _ _ _ _
_ [Bm] Well he stuck the billy on the boil [D] and then emptied out his pipe.
And with his greasy shirt sleeve, he [G] gave his nose a wipe.
And with pipe in mouth he mixed a sod and [C] a drip come from his chin.
[D] And as he mixed the damper up, the drip kept [G] dripping in. _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ I walked quietly over to him and I [D] said, toss that mixture out.
And in future when you're working, [G] keep your pipe out of your mouth.
Oh he stood erect and eyed me with [C] such a dirty look.
[D] And he said, in choice Australian, get another [G] bloody cook.
And we said, _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
a cook I said you call [D] yourself, you greasy slop-maid-lout.
Why you should be jailed for taking [G] work that you cannot carry out.
He then uncorked some language and [C] I felt a thrill of fear.
As [D] he swung his hairy paws about and said, trot your frame [G] out here.
_ _ _ _ _ _ In outback brawls there are no [D] rules, no limits to the weight.
So I had to squibble meet him [G] with my meek and iron-snowen aid.
And we both bounced into action [C] and fell into a clinch.
[G]
I [D] put a headlock on him, but I couldn't [G] make him flinch.
_ _ For hours we fought in deathly grip, [D] swung up for cuts and crosses.
We staggered and floundered in distress [G] like broken-winded horses.
Then gaspingly he muttered, [C] oh I fought all through the north.
[D] You're the gamest thing I've ever struck, give [G] me a hand old sport. _ _ _ _
_ [D] Well I can't explain my feelings, with joy I nearly cried.
As we staggered to a shade close by [G] where he sang down and died.
Now you talk about that salt-bush [C] scrap, why it was only play.
[D] Compared to the grueling battle, we fought [G] that fatal day. _ _ _ _
_ _ [D] Now above his resting place where the grass has grown to seed.
On stone is carved a separate path [G] for travellers to read.
Here lies the son of Donald Gunn, [C] none gamer ever stood.
[D] And he died in dinkum battle with Jimmy _ [G] _ Underwood.
[C] _ _ [G] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ [N] _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _