"Dribbler Bill" lyrics

I see him still, ol' Dribbler Bill, his frame as hard as gidgee
He drove the mail on bridle tracks in country soft and rigid
Never had too much to say, but when he did, 'twas just a drawl
And ya kind of got the feelin' he'd be handy in a brawl

His Leyland truck was like ol' Bill, gutsy, rough, and slow
He took that truck through country where a dozer wouldn't go
Yeah, but he's been bogged down tire-deep, and tracked in Coober Pole
When others turned their trucks around and headed back for home

Now ol' Bill would do those little things for bush folk far from town
Had a memory like Sir Sydney, never wrote the items down
And newspapers he would put inside the mailbox on the ridge
And, every stop along the way, had somethin' for the kids

He seemed to be a lonely man, like one deprived of luck
An outward sign his only mate was that old Leyland truck
He'd caress that smooth ol' steerin' wheel and gaze along the track
The last words that I heard him say was, "See ya later, Jack," hey

Now the Mail still serves the far Outback, a job they handled fine
But memories dwell on Dribbler Bill way back in '39
I remember every mail-night, the excitement and the thrill
As we sat outside and waited for the lights of Dribbler Bill

Oh, there's many times he helped us out when tucker got real slack
Like fresh meat from a bullock secured from somewhere up the track
Yeah, a great old man was Dribbler Bill, the kind who'd always stick
And he'd risk his life without a thought for the needy and the sick, hey

Now I'd like to think that Dribbler Bill still has the wheel in hand
Pushin' that ol' Leyland truck throughout that channel land
Should there be no trucks in Heaven, it's a halo to a pup
Just give ol' Bill a day or two and he'll start a mail-run up
Yeah, so long Bill