As tall and as tough as a gum tree, and humor as dry as the track, with a grin just as wide as this country, and his friends always know him as Mac.
With the dial of a bush-bred Australian, and a glint in his eye for some fun, if he likes you, you'll always remember his handshake as warm as the sun.
He was born in the far western districts, in the days before fast-moving cars, and was raised where the horses and cattle.
Roamed at will meet the bright western stars. When the day finally came that he traveled, with nowhere in mind much at all, he found himself down in the Gippsland, where the mountains and timber grow tall.
Then he humped his swag into East Gippsland, looked around, rubbed his fingers, and said,
He had a sweat from his brow, and said in a drawl, not a bad place at all, and that was thirty-odd years ago now.
Together oft times by the fireside, with a lager or two across our chests, I sing just to get him excited, and then he'll whistle up mobs with the best.
And he'll tell of a swaggy he travels.
And he'll tell of a swaggy he travels.

Whose obsession in life was flies.
On a board to his trouser leg fastened, by thousands they'd die in surprise.
On this board they would swarm for the slaughter, whether sunshine, in rain or in flood.
And he'd swat them with great satisfaction, and then smear on some more rabbit's blood.
I come and I go in my travels, and the times that I see him a few.
As he stands on the rise I can see in his eyes, that he'd like to come travelin' too.
Now there's nothing outstanding about him, that you could write upon any gold slate.
But to me he's a dinkum Australian.
And it just so happens, he's my mate.
Yes, tall and as tough as a gumtree, with humour as dry as the track, with a grin just as white as this country, and his friends always know him as Mac.