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Project Gutenberg Australia HomeReturn to Index of Poems
“All aboard!” The call’s surprisin’
When the mornin’ star is risin’
And it’s ‘ard
With the blanky, bleatin’ chorus
Of the woollies waitin’ for us
In the yard—
In the sanguinary, dusty markin’ yard.
Bolt yer brekfus-chops an’ damper,
An’ to graft, or be a tramper
Off the track.
“Whip across an’ block ‘em, Bowser”—
“Speak up Smooger”—”Damn you, Towser!
Fetch him back—
Bring the crimson, cross-eyed, wool-bound breaker back!”
Through the force-pens, through the race, an’
Into catch-pens—take yer place, an’
Don yer dress;
Mine’s a chaff-bag, yours a white-skirt,
And the squatter sports a night-shirt—
Nothing less;
Shepherd’s blood-stained “Fancy Dress” an’ nothing less.
Fore and hind legs held together,
Dumped on rail to cry of “wether!”
Or “a ewe!”
Clip go markers—knives are gleamin’—
“Tail off, Gulliver!”-blood’s streamin’
On to you,
Hot an sticky, blood is squirtin’ on to you.
Let them out, then count the tails, an’
‘Eap ‘em up across the rail, an’
Rush the dams;
Thro’ the race again, me hearty—
That’s the way we act Macarty,
Markin’ lambs;
Jes’ the very way we do it, markin’ lambs.
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