Lachlan Tigers

Well at each gate each shearer stood as the whistle loudly blew

With eyebrows fixed and lips compressed the tigers all fell to

Hark to the clicking of the shears as through the wool they glide

You see our gun’s already turned and on the whipping side

 

A lot of Lachlan tigers it's plain to see we are

Hark to our burly ringer as he loudly calls for tar

“Tar here!” calls one and quick the tar boy flies

“Sweep those locks away”, another loudly cries

 

The scene it is a lively one and ought to be admired

There's never been a better one since Jacky Howe expired

Along the board the gaffer walks his face all in a frown

And passing along the board he cries, “Watch, my lads, keep down!”

 

I must have those bellies off and topknots too likewise

My eye is quick so watch your tricks or you’ll go off like flies

A curse upon our gaffer. He’s never on our side

To shear a decent tally here in vain I've often tried

 

I’ve a pair of Ward and Paine's that are both bright and new

I'll rig them up and let you see what I can really do

I've shore on the Riverina where they shear them by the score

But such a mob as this to shear I've never struck before