I was short of a dollar so
You can't pick and choose when
So we talked for a spell and he gave
This cunning ole guy known
The rig which he owned was
And the run that I drew was
Bob's brakes was the kind which
The places he sent me would just
From dead—ends in Balmain to drill
With the sands of a desert,
put your gears to the test
But I battled along an' I shif
Old Bent—Axle whinged every time
An d saw half the metal that I
The trailers were buckled,
The tarps which he owned were
were all rusty and joined
and the dolly was cracked
The kingpins was strained from
the loads they had hacked
I did what I could mate, yes I really tried
Old Bent Axle whinged 'til
I'm sittin' here at home an'
Seems I have a road train now
Yes I'm heir to the fortune
You can drive this old rig to
and that smokey fuel pump."
You can drive this old wreck to