Back At The Isa

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Big galvanised roofs and monster pipes black 
 
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Pink and white clouds from a chimney stack 
 
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Red dust and hawks in the wind out back 
 
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And here I am at the Isa 
 
 
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What do you do in a town like the Isa 
 
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Retrenched at 50 become an old miser 
 
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Drink yourself blind so you're none the wiser 
 
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Sit at home with the race form and whinge 
 
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Just over the hill in his own backyard 
 
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The landscape becomes a picture postcard 
 
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Where the colours are soft but the life is hard 
 
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On the stations here at the Isa 
 
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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 
  
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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 
 
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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 
 
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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 
 
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Never thought I'd return to this lonely track 
 
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And here I am back at the Isa 
 
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