Classic and Contemporary Poetry
SQUATTERS AND THE REDUCTION, by ANONYMOUS First Line: Some squatters have commenced to shear Last Line: "but if you want a thorough doing - / why, just try the overflow" Subject(s): Deception;honesty;labor & Laborers;sheep;wages; Salaries | ||||||||
SOME squatters have commenced to shear, While some are in a fix, They thought to do it nicely With their seventeen-and-six. They would not pay the pound, So they got stuck in the mud, Instead of being now cut out, They're surrounded by the flood. "There's been no work a-doing, Now's our time to pull them down, And we'll starve them to submission," Said your great Kallara Brown. Now the fight commenced at Dunlop, Then the Paroo in the bush, The boys, too, of Yankannia They joined in the manly push. It was out at Nocoleche shed, The latter end of June, When Gamson came to call the roll (You might know the little coon): When everything was quiet, And you could not hear a sound, He told us in a crying style He could not pay the pound. We did not hoot but listened, For we had not much to say, But gave him our terms in writing, boys, And then we walked away. He then took a fortnight's practice In some very funny tricks, And then he got two snaggers For seventeen-and-six, But they knew to make a start, boys, That too dear they'd have to pay So they saddled up their neddies And like loafers sneaked away. Says the boss, "You've plenty of money, For I see it flying round, So we'll sign last year's agreement, For I'll have to pay the pound." Says I, "Old boy, don't gallop, When you start a waiting race; If you sack a man a pound you'll pay," I told him to his face. I then signed his agreement And in action put my pen I wrote to the Bourke paper To inform my fellow-men, For I knew the news was welcome To those living far away, When I told of Nocoleche, boys, And how we gained the day. I thought the price was settled And everything bid well, But I'd scarcely rode three days, my boys, Whenwhat an awful sell I found a lot of snaggers, Not a shearer in the mob, At Mumba signed for seventeen With a bonus of three bob. There was room for over twenty But of course I didn't stop; I that day received a letter From our friends up at Dunlop. They told me of old Jimmy, How he said it was but fear; If it wasn't for the river men, The cockies they would shear. He brought the police from Cobar, But they did not care a pin, They stood out like men for seven weeks And beat old Dunlop Jim. They had but scarcely started When the rain it came about, And like the Nocoleche boys, They soon were flooded out. Some made towards the Lachlan In search of better luck And some went out to Paddington And McPherson straitened up. They put him through his facings And sent him running round Crying out for shearers And "I'll pay them all a pound." Now, wherever you go shearing, Let this always be your crack: I never shore at Paddington, I wouldn't shear for Mac. There is one thing left to settle, Though I've signed it once or twice, Don't put your pen to paper For that rotten second price Unless a man's dissatisfied And wants to strike his Micks I say it's right to pay him then With seventeen-and-six. I would to both sides justice, I ask for nothing more, But don't rob me of my labour When I've got two thousand shore. Let your actions all be honest, And proud the truth to tell; I was treated there with kindness, And so speak the Walkers well; I wouldn't shear at Paddington, I'd rather see him stuck, But I struggled through Nekarboo, boys, And saw the cobbler cut. I'll tell of some good squatters Whom I've long kept in the dark, But keep a strain on your bridle rein And steer clear of Baden Park. I've left the Murrumbidgee, I could not stand McGaw, While Brotch of Mutagoona He's the best I ever saw; And Scott too of Bellaele You'll find very hard to beat. Good old Tully of Murrungle To shear for was a treat; If you go to Girilambone You might pull through with Low; But if you want a thorough doing Why, just try the Overflow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WORK by ALEKSANDR SERGEYEVICH PUSHKIN HUDSON RIVER ANTHOLOGY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS ECLOGUE: THE TIMES by WILLIAM BARNES THE PAY ENVELOPE (1) by EDGAR ALBERT GUEST TIS A LITTLE JOURNEY by ANONYMOUS |
|