The other side of the Great
Divide is cattle country.
A land that can make you hard as nails.
The working dog's a legend out there,
a good one's worth two men.
But life's no bed of roses
There's a bloke they call the mongrel,
On a red dirt block with around 500 head
You wouldn't find a meaner man
he's a mongrel to them all
His wife came from the city,
she was a timid little thing
Didn't know what she was in
The neighbors hardly saw her,
when they did she turned away
But the makeup on the bruises
told them all she didn't say
that kept that woman sane
Was a little calpy cross she raised by hand
the poor thing looked half -sick
If the mongrel had his way,
he would have drowned him
Then one day a close relation
And she went down to the funeral
Came back a few days later,
To find her little pride and joy
And the best excuse the mongrel had
was somehow he'd forgotten
To put out food and water
for her precious little pup
She should have thought about that
Now the mongrel was a drinker,
used to go on benders now and then.
So people in the district
if he didn't make it into town
for several weeks on end.
But when a month or so had passed
and nothing had been heard,
thought he'd take a look around.
When he got to the property,
the place was deathly quiet.
he heard the strangest sound.
When he went to check it out,
Near a tub of fetid water
and a bag of dry dog food
The emaciated mongrel howled deliriously
Of course they never found a wife
or the sad and sickly pup
Some say the cops didn't really try,
some say they just gave up
well he's nothing like the man he used to be
Some nights he even lets his
Ah, the other side of the great divide
A land that tends to make you hard as nails
The working dog's a legend out there,
a good one's worth two men
And that's my little story
about man's best friend you
