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Jog Along Till Shearing The truth, it's in my song so clear Without a word of gammon: The swagmen travel all the year Waiting for the lambin'. Now when this dirty trick is done, To the nearest shanty steering, They meet a friend, their money spend, Then jog along till shearing. cho: Home sweet home, That is what they left it for, Their home sweet home. Now when the shearing season comes, They hear the price that's going; New arrivals meet old chums, Then they start their blowing. They say that they can shear each day Their hundred pretty handy, But eighty sheep's no child's play When the wool is close and sandy. When the sheds are all cut out, They get their bit of paper. To the nearest pub they run, They cut a dashing caper. They call for liquor plenty And they're happy when they're drinking, But where to go when the money's done, It's little they are thinking. Sick and sore next morning, They are when they awaken, To have a drink, of course they must, To keep their nerves from shakin', They call for one, and then for two, In a way that's rather funny, Till the landlord says, "Now this won't do; You blokes have got no money." They're sleeping on verandahs And they're lounging on the sofas, Then to finish off their spree, They're ordered off as loafers. They've got no friends, their money's gone, And at their disappearing They give three cheers for the river bend And jog along till shearing. Collected from Joe Cashmere in New South Wales in 1953. The tune is the well-known and frequently-borrowed "Bow Wow Wow." Recorded by Carla Sciaky on "Spin the Weaver's Song." RW
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!