From the recording Wandering Whilst Im Wondering
My Uncle Nugget told me once when I was visiting him in Carnarvon WA. The Summer storms were building in the late afternoon as the always did, inland from Carnarvon. He looked up at the distant storms and told me that’s where all the old Stockmen of the Gascoyne have gone, they are riding on the Thunderstorms out on the Kennedy Range. Their stock whips are cracking and the lightning is the strikes from the horses hooves on rock. So he gave me those lines and I wrote the rest of the song. The last part is my personal reflection paying tribute to my grandfather Toby and the Framed picture of him I got custom drawn after I dreamt of him on the very morning he passed when I was 15.
Lyrics
My old man, he couldn’t read or write
But he had a trade of his own
never went to no fancy schools, or wore those fancy close
A stock horse and riding boots, stock whip in his hand
He worked his trade on the land
Where have all the old stockmen of the Gascoyne gone?
They’re riding on the thunderstorms, out on the Kennedy range
Their stock whips are cracking, watch the lightning fly
Last of the true stockman, we will never see again
Stock whips break the silence, before the break of day
This old man was a stockman, from the plains of yesterday
Pushing the stock through the range, until the end of day
take me back to yesterday.
I have a picture on my wall, of my grandfather looking at me
Cowboy hat, grey hair, khaki shirt and his moleskin jeans
I always feel safe coz I know he is watching me, showing me the road if I lose my way.
Where have all the old stockmen of the Gascoyne gone?
They’re riding on the thunderstorms, out on the Kennedy range
Their stock whips are cracking, watch the lightning fly
Last of the true stockman x 3
We’ll never see again.