The Banks of the Condamine

0h hark the dogs are barking, love, I can no longer stay;

The men are all gone mustering, and it is nearly day.

And I must be off by the morning light before the sun does shine,

To meet the Roma shearers on the banks of the Condamine.

 

0h Willy, dearest Willy, please let me go with you!

I'll cut off all my auburn fringe, and be a shearer too;

I'll cook and count your tally, love, while ringer-0 you shine,

And I'll wash your greasy moleskins on the banks of the Condamine.

 

0h Nancy, dearest Nancy, with me you cannot go!

The squatters have given orders, love, no woman should do so.

And your delicate constitution is not equal unto mine,

To withstand the constant tigering on the banks of the Condamine.

 

0h Willy, dearest Willy, then stay at home with me;

We'll take up a selection, and a farmer's wife I'll be.

I'll help you husk the corn, love, and cook your meals so fine,

You'll forget the ram-stag mutton on the banks of the Condamine.

 

0h Nancy, dearest Nancy, pray do not hold me back!

Down there the bovs are waiting, and I must be on the track.

So here's a goodbye kiss, love; back home I will incline,

When we've shore the last of the jumbucks on the banks of the Condamine.