You might think it's a one- horse town   No traffic lights, one roundabout   Beccy runs the corner shop   Shuts the door at five o'clock      You might think this town is dead   'Cause we ain't got no drive through yet   Our one garage don't open nights   Truckies they just roll on by   But down the road at The Grand Hotel   Saturday nights are as hot as hell      The band plays, cold beer flows   Stomp the floor and dance 'till close   Comes alive when the sun goes down   Country boys and girls get loud      Billy Rigg he owns The Grand   He's filled the fridge, he's booked the band   Six o'clock he preps the troops   Eight o'clock all hell breaks loose      It's four o'clock in the afternoon   Locals know what's coming soon   From the west there's a cloud of dust   They're coming in there comin fast