Pilbara Slavery Blues
You can run from Cossack
You can hide from Cossack
You get shot on the spot in Cossack
But you won't be going home, no way
You won't be going home
You won't be going home, no way
You won't be going home
They don't call them slaves
They don't pay no wage
They don't care what
Do-gooders say
Down in Perth where they're so far away
They're reliably informed that the sergeant will look the other way
Plenty of sun in Cossack town
Plenty of pearl shell to be found
Plenty of water for a man to drown
But you won't be going home, no way
You won't be going home, no
You won't be going home, no way
You won't be going home
Blackbirds crying on Nanny Goat Hill
Laughter ringing through the window sills
Butcher's Inlet sucks her fill
From bones in a turquoise grave
Bones in a tumbling grave
Bones in a turquoise grave
Bones in a tumbling grave
40 degrees, see the covey roam
40 man shackled, marching slow
Them chains blister you down to the bone
But you won't be going home, no way
You won't be going home, no
You won't be going home, no way
You won't be going home
The red land's bleeding like a bursted tick
The water's flying like foaming spit
And coroner, come investigate quick
You can hide from Cossack
You get shot on the spot in Cossack
But you won't be going home, no way
You won't be going home
You won't be going home, no way
You won't be going home
They don't call them slaves
They don't pay no wage
They don't care what
Do-gooders say
Down in Perth where they're so far away
They're reliably informed that the sergeant will look the other way
Plenty of sun in Cossack town
Plenty of pearl shell to be found
Plenty of water for a man to drown
But you won't be going home, no way
You won't be going home, no
You won't be going home, no way
You won't be going home
Blackbirds crying on Nanny Goat Hill
Laughter ringing through the window sills
Butcher's Inlet sucks her fill
From bones in a turquoise grave
Bones in a tumbling grave
Bones in a turquoise grave
Bones in a tumbling grave
40 degrees, see the covey roam
40 man shackled, marching slow
Them chains blister you down to the bone
But you won't be going home, no way
You won't be going home, no
You won't be going home, no way
You won't be going home
The red land's bleeding like a bursted tick
The water's flying like foaming spit
And coroner, come investigate quick
Credits
Writer(s): Darcy Hay
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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