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Project Gutenberg Australia HomeReturn to Index of Poems
Whey, come here Rattler! Gee back, Brown!
I’ve half a mind to knock you down,
You skulkin’, half-bred cow!
Why can’t you keep the bloomin’ road,
‘S a bullock ought, without a goad?
You’ve only got a half a load
For some old Darling scow.
Heave, bend and bust her! Stand up, Roan!
You crawlin’ swine, I’ll make you groan!
Get to it, damn yer eyes!
Until the camp’s in easy hail,
The most y’ do is switch yer tail;
Unless I’m near you with the flail,
You’re only killin’ flies.
Get over, Brindle! Strike me pink!
You ‘fraid ye’ll strain a blanky link
By tuggin’ at the chain?
Come, bend yer necks an’ dip yer toes,
An’ up she rises—screamin’ woes!
A turn or two an’ down she goes
Right to her naves again!
Now, then, you beauties, shoulders up;
Hang to her like a scrappin’ pup—
Pull till yer muscles crack!
Whoa, Blucher! Blast you, help yer mate,
Or square yer yoke, at any rate;
There ain’t no time to meditate
On this bog-blinded track.
Gee up there, Ginger! Whoa-back, Spot!
You wobblin’ cow, I’ll make it hot
For you. Now, step it out,
‘An’ never mind the shady tree,
Or lookin’ at the scenery.
It’s in the cask you ought to be,
There’s not the slightest doubt.
Up, Billy! Gee, you scabby hound!
You sneakin’ rat, come, scratch some ground,
An’ win the blanky war!
Another hill of sand an’ sod—
Heave ho, my loves! Another rod,
An’ here’s the camp at last (thank God!)
Where all the good things are.
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