I’ll carry a gun to the bricks
and a gun to the shed,
a gun to the orchard
and a gun to the bed
because I’m a strapping man.
My gun’s in my face,
my gun’s in my mouth
because I’m a strapping man.
I’m sour in disposition
and the gun’s my position
because I’m a strapping man.
Find me at the river
with my gun, a bottle
and a sliver of moonlight
because I’m a strapping man.
I’ll drink and I’ll pause
and I’ll moan in the river.
I’ve got a pack on my back
and I’m a dead man’s dream
because I’m a strapping man.
I’ll strap because I can.
I’ll strap because I can.
Till I can’t get lost no more.
