Your kidding?
I dont listen to his music either, but a great aussie, and a shame to lose him
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Chevs may go, but theres nothing like a HO!
Proud LSUG Member, and 9" Nodular Iron driveline test pilot.
Member FGTCoA
www.falcongtclub.org
Legendary country music entertainer Slim Dusty has died.
Dusty passed away at his home at 9.46am today after a protracted battle with cancer, EMI marketing manager Chris O'Hearne said.
Born David Gordon Kirkpatrick at Kempsey, on the NSW mid-north coast, in 1927, he wrote his first song The Way the Cowboy Dies at the age of 10.
A year later he changed his name to Slim Dusty and later went on to record a string of hits including The Pub With No Beer, the biggest selling record by an Australian.
He was the first Australian to receive a Gold Record, the first to have an international record hit, and the first singer in the world to have his voice beamed to earth from space.
In June this year, Dusty was recording his 106th album and at the time his management denied he was battling cancer.
Dusty had his left kidney removed after a cancerous tumour was detected in November 2001 and received continuous treatment.
His wife Joy, son David and daughter Anne were at his bedside when the 76-year-old singer passed away at his home in Sydney, Mr O'Hearne said.
-AAP
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'67 Mustang V8 4sp... what fun to drive!
I was sitting in the middle of a paddock watching goats have their kids when I heard......... The song we had just been listening to on the tape player was good old Slim Dusty .... Leave him out in the long yard ........
We turned the news on & couldnt believe it ......
RIP Slim
Condolences to the Kirkpatrick family
A huge loss to country music....... & all us aussies
It's lonesome away from your FREDDIE at sea
When your flying along in a lone S-2G
The cat hurt my back bone,
my arse & my neck.
There'll be no relief 'til we're back on the deck.
Well we're flying around punching holes in the blue,
Trying to hold back a gut-wrenching spew.
We get radar contact,
And then there's a MAD.
And things go from worse to just too f**king bad.
We put in a pattern but can't get a fix,
With 'maybe' on 4, and 'lost contact' on 6.
I've just had a chunder,
I'm too crook to speak.
But I'd feel so much better if my bag didn't leak!
We fly through the CASEX with open bomb doors,
Knowing we have only Mark 44s.
Oh what I could do
With a DUSTBIN or two.
I'd sort out that GOBLIN & it's whole f**king crew!
If the TACCO had not gone for "..just one more MAD",
Things would probably not have turned out this bad.
I look at my watch,
Just one hour has pass.
A six hour sortie on a four hour arse.
And it's no fun away from your HOMEPLATE at all,
When the poopy-suit peehole is too god-damn small!
There's nothing so lonesome.
Shocking or cruel,
When your busting to go & can't find your tool!
Well finding your ship in rain-squalls is hard,
And you know when you trap, your back will be jarred.
But worse than your sore back,
Your arse & your neck,
Is to Larry Mills call "WAVE OFF - FOUL DECK!"
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