The Warby Ranges back in the day had two kinds of folks locals and strays
Red was unchained forgiven of sin Ellen Irish and rode like a Quinn
Babies were born into desperate grief to those who gave mercy to killers and thieves
With her hair midnight black turning to grey and seven children standing over Red's early grave

That mare in foal oh she's mine lead her quietly away before the sun shines
Stolen meat, brands cut from the hide, there's nothing to eat less you're going inside
Music and Mirth shared altered brands, Ellen's twelfth baby shackled her hands
Stringybark's tall, a moonless night, wild dogs howled, something's not right

She started on horses, finished in cars, drawn to the battle and showing the scars
She buried the old ones, her children and kin, saddled her pony and she rode like the wind

Cold cell in winter babe at the breast hot days of summer as his majesty's guest
She was let loose forgiven of sin Ned hung by the neck and was dust in the wind
Dan was burnt black Kate howled at the moon and died on her own in a murky lagoon
With her grandson gone to a cruel war lost the cold chilled her bones such a heavy cost

She started on horses, finished in cars, drawn to the battle and showing the scars
She buried the old ones, her children and kin, saddled her pony and she rode like the wind