| I’ve played this old guitar of mine from Adelaide to Cairns, | 
| Singin' songs the people like to hear, | 
| Stories of Australia and it’s rugged countryside, | 
| Written by the old bush balladeers. | 
| Their stories of Australia, will be forever green, | 
| Their characters can still be found today, | 
| There will always be a 'Sweeney' or a 'Man from Ironbark', | 
| Or someone who has fallen by the way. | 
| The history of Australia is laid out for all to see, | 
| In the heritage of words they left behind, | 
| And they wrote of joys and sorrows and the comedies of life, | 
| And they cared a lot for leaders and the line. | 
| Hey | 
| There was Adam Lindsay Gordon, set our style of ballad goin', | 
| And I lift my hat to Ogilvy and all, | 
| To the 'Banjo' and the 'Breaker' an' Henry Lawson too, | 
| Quite anonymous was often best of all. | 
| And still the pens are flowing all the papers here and there, | 
| As some modern scribe records his daily life, | 
| And perhaps you’ll see him sittin' by a fireside quietly picking, | 
| A tune to suit the ballad that he writes. | 
| Balladeers of Australia I dips my lid to you, | 
| Your memory I dedicate this song, | 
| You can tell a simple story in a special kind of way, | 
| And a style of verse how writers carry on, | 
| Balladeers of Australia, I dips my lid to you, | 
| To your memory, I dedicate this song |