Back At The Isa

Big galvanised roofs and monster pipes black Pink and white clouds from a chimney stack Red dust and hawks in the wind out back And here I am at the Isa What do you do in a town like the Isa Retrenched at 50 become an old miser Drink yourself blind so you're none the wiser Sit at home with the race form and whinge Just over the hill in his own backyard The landscape becomes a picture postcard Where the colours are soft but the life is hard On the stations here at the Isa Tonight's the night of the rodeo ball Before riders and bull and horses stand tall While out in the park some black people sprawl And share their money on flagons There's so much more to be understood Before coming out here like Robin Hood The do-gooders do more harm than good Without really knowing the Isa Through the Leichhardt East Where fools gold flashes Fossick around for Maltese Crosses Flog them off to the tourist buses See ghost gums under the moon Some really battle some make do The luckier ones make a quid and pull through Some perch at the bar like a caged cockatoo But that's nothing new at the Isa And it takes a special kind of girl To stay out here in this rugged world Keep your dignity when the oathes are hurled I pay my respects to you And I'll raise my glass to an outback town To that weathered spirit that won't back down It takes the courage of a rodeo clown To stick it out at the Isa Big galvanised roofs and monster pipes black Pink and white clouds from a chimney stack Red dust and hawks in the wind out back And here I am at the Isa Never thought I'd return to this lonely track And here I am back at the Isa