| If you’ve ever been to the Kimberley | 
| Just like old Vegie Bill | 
| You’ll pine and whine to get back there | 
| But he reckons he never will | 
| 'Cause he’s got too long in th tooth | 
| And he’s taken a turn or two | 
| So his missus bought him a picture book | 
| Said 'That'll just have to do' | 
| So I’m goin' up there for the old bloke | 
| Kunnunurra, to see his mate | 
| I’ll send him a card from the Fitzroy | 
| He’ll show it around 'The Glengarry' | 
| To Nifty and his wife | 
| Then he’ll start all over again | 
| Reminiscing his Kimberley life | 
| He’ll go on about the scenery, unbelievable | 
| Nothing else comes near it in the land | 
| He said a lot of his mates were Aboriginal | 
| They took him like a brother | 
| Well, he had a lot of stories | 
| But I reckon his favourite | 
| Was how his mate brought his brother home to rest | 
| Still stiff and frozen solid from the morgue | 
| And he kept the beer cartons cold on his chest | 
| Well the family couldn’t come at the vegetables | 
| Or the sausages neatly wrapped around the dead | 
| So they had to dig for yam and eat goanna | 
| And hunt for wallaby instead | 
| Well, Bill used to sell vegetables to the opal miners | 
| Off his humble little one-ton truck | 
| He didn’t make a lot of dough | 
| But he made a heap of friends out there | 
| Where they move a thousand ton of dirt for an ounce of luck | 
| You know I kinda feel sorry for old Bill | 
| Sipping another beer in the summer breeze | 
| He’s still up there in the North in hi heart and his mind | 
| Grading a gravel road in the Kimberley |