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E
Johnno drives a Cruiser, Stretch is in his Ute,
Kenny's old Torana is hangin' for a hoot.
A
From Tennant Creek to Longreach,
It's not a real exclusive club.
E
Just find a quiet little turnoff,
B E
And fang it through the scrub.
A
Scrubbashin' in a cloud of dust,
Foot's flat to the floor.
E
I'm flat strap out the back,
Kickin' up the dirt track.
That's what we come here for.
A
Buckin' like a stump jump plough,
I'm comin' back for more.
E B E
It's my passion....scrubbashin'.
E
Well I found myself a paddock and it might be a sin,
But I was carving dirt with circle work
When the cops came to haul me in.
A
Well he took the keys of the old HT,
And said 'I'm sorry son,
E
But its time you learnt your lesson,
B E
Let me show you how its done'.
A
Scrubbashin' in a cloud of dust,
Foot's flat to the floor.
E
I'm flat strap out the back,
Kickin' up the dirt track.
That's what we come here for.
A
Buckin' like a stump jump plough,
I'm comin' back for more.
E B E
It's my passion....scrubbashin'.
A E A E B E
INSTRUMENTAL
B A
You've got to keep that motor humming,
Bb B A
You've got to keep it running hot.
Bb B A
You've got to show 'em what you're made of,
Bb B
You've got to give it all you've got.
A
Scrubbashin' in a cloud of dust,
Foot's flat to the floor.
E
I'm flat strap out the back,
Kickin' up the dirt track.
That's what we come here for.
A
Buckin' like a stump jump plough,
I'm comin' back for more.
E B E
It's my passion....scrubbashin'.
Written by Colin Buchanan/Lee Kernaghan/Garth Porter