Said the old working bullock to the draught horses mate
The yokes, chains and swingbars have gone out of date
Just look at the dust clouds and smoke trailing back
Where once we pulled wagons, there's trucks on the track
Trucks on the track

There's seldom a bush road that's not felt the trail,
Of some big prime mover that leave us for dead
Stiff shouldered and foot-sore our chains never slack
And our ticket for freedom, those trucks on the track

Those broad smiling faces of the gear pushing men,
Is the trade mark of truckies that I recall when
The face of the teamster turned purple and black
With rage but he'd welcome these trucks on the track

The draught horse replied as he shook his old mane,
Those days I've no yearning to see them again
Old whips made of green hide that stung ribs and back,
Hang idle because of those trucks on the track
Trucks on the track

Instrumental

So just let us nibble this young tender grass
We're both pensioned off and are silver and brass
Way back though the ages a man hunt his pack,
Now they haul half the World those trucks on the track

So spray out the bull dust the trucks must get through
There's someone out back mate 'pending on you
A yard of prime cattle, or a wool clip to stack
The kings of the road, those trucks on the track
Trucks on the track

So just let us nibble this young tender grass
We're both pensioned off and are silver and brass
Way back though the ages a man hunt his pack,
Now they haul half the World those trucks on the track

So spray out the bull dust the trucks must get through
There's someone out back mate 'pending on you
A yard of prime cattle, or a wool clip to stack
The kings of the road, those trucks on the track