Thunderbolt was a bush-ranger
And a gentleman at that
He rode The New England Ranges
In a broad brimmed hat

From Tenterfield to Uralla
His exploits were well know
Stealing the best of horse flesh
The ones with pace in their bones

He was a cunning fellow
Avoiding the constabulary
Hiding in farm houses
With his friends and family

On the way to Tamworth
He was cornered at a rocky outcrop
And met his fatal end
In the form of a gun shot

Outside Uralla
On The New England highway
The rock where he was shot
Bears his name to-day