His eyes were used to distance and he talked much with 
his hands
I guess he sort of felt hemmed in a stranger to this 
land
And a lifestyle of another time, another time and place
Was written there deep in the lines of this old 
bushman's face.

His attire was still in keeping with the far out 
channel lands
There was still a strength of character in his hard old 
bushman's hands
And his old hat tilted forward was as much a part of 
him
As the 80 years of livin' that showed, underneath the 
brim.

Just somewhere west of Winton mate is where I'd rather 
be
To ride out in the dawn time, Mitchell to my horses 
knee 
Unroll my swag beside a fire of some long forgotten 
camp
If I listen close maybe I'll hear a tethered night 
horse stamp. 

[Instrumental]
Just to see again the sunsets as the night falls on the 
land
Oh the silent sound of beauty makes the proudest heart 
expand
Where the lights of some old homestead beam a warm and 
welcome glow
And no travellin' soul went hungry in those days of 
long ago.

I see a dried up sandy creekbed when the dry comes much 
too soon
Watch the wild mob paw for water ‘neath an early rising 
moon
Maybe I'll see the dust cloud rising from the 
travellin' mob again
Hear the whips crack on the tailers as they cross the 
open plain.

Just somewhere west of Winton mate is where I'd rather 
be
To ride out in the dawn time, Mitchell to my horses 
knee 
Unroll my swag beside a fire of some long forgotten 
camp
If I listen close maybe I'll hear a tethered night 
horse stamp.