|The Springtime It Brings on the Shearing|
Oh, the springtime it brings on the shearing,
And it's then that you'll see them in droves,
To the west country stations all steering,
A-seeking a job off the coves.
With my ragged old swag on my shoulder
And a billy quart-pot in my hand,
I tell you we'll astonish the new chums
To see how we travel the land.
From Billabone, up to the border
Then it’s over to Bourke, there and back
On the mountains and plains you will find them
The men on the wallaby track.
Should they fail in finding employment
For food they’re not willing to lack
For cadgeing’s a source of enjoyment
To the men on the wallaby track
Oh, and after the shearing is over
And the wool season's all at an end,
It is then that you'll find those flash shearers
Making Johnny-cakes round in the bend.