Posts Tagged ‘lyrics’

Australia has always been a country proud of it’s wool industry, this is a great iconic song about sheep shearing.

CLICK GO THE SHEARS, BOYS

Anonymous

Out on the board the old shearer stands,
Grasping his shears in his long, bony hands.
Fixed is his gaze on a bare-bellied “joe”,
Glory if he gets her, won’t he make the ringer go.

Chorus:
Click go the shears, boys, click, click, click,
Wide is his blow and his hands move quick,
The ringer looks around and is beaten by a blow,
And curses the old snagger with the blue-bellied “joe”.

In the middle of the floor in his cane-bottomed chair
Is the boss of the board, with eyes everywhere;
Notes well each fleece as it comes to the screen,
Paying strict attention if it’s taken off clean.

The colonial-experience man, he is there, of course,
With his shiny leggin’s, just got off his horse,
Casting round his eye like a real connoisseur,
Whistling the old tune, “I’m the Perfect Lure”.

Now, Mister Newchum, for to begin,
In number seven paddock bring all the sheep in;
Don’t leave none behind, whatever you may do,
And then you’ll be fit for a jackeroo.

The tar-boy is there, awaiting in demand,
With his blackened tar-pot, and his tarry hand;
Sees one old sheep with a cut upon its back,
Hears what he’s waiting for, “Tar here, Jack.”

Shearing is all over and we’ve all got our cheques,
Roll up you sway for we’re off on the tracks;
The first pub we come to, it’s there we’ll have a spree,
And everyone that comes along it’s, “Come and drink with me!”

Down by the bar the old shearer stands,
Grasping his glass in his thin bony hands,
Fixed in his gaze on a green –painted keg,
Glory, he’ll get down on it, ere he stirs a peg.

There we leave him standing, shouting for all hands,
Whilst all around him every “shouter” stands;
His eyes are on the cask, which is now lowering fast,
He works hard, he drinks hard, and goes to hell at last.

A real favourite and probably our most known song outside of Australia.

WALTZING MATILDA

A.B. “Banjo” Paterson

Oh! There once was a swagman camped in a Billabong
Under the shade of a Coolabah tree;
And he sang as he looked at his old billy boiling,
‘Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?

Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda my darling,
Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
Waltzing Matilda and leading a water-bag –
Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?

Down came a jumbuck to drink at the water-hole,
Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him in glee;
And he sang as he stowed him away in his tucker-bag,
‘You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me!’

Down came the Squatter a-riding his thoroughbred;
Down came Policemen – one, two, and three.
‘Whose is the jumbuck you’ve got in the tucker-bag?
You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me!’

But the swagman, he up and he jumped in the water-hole,
Drowning himself by the Coolabah tree;
And his ghost may be heard as it sings in the Billabong
‘Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?’

Along The Road To Gundagai is a song written by Jack O’Hagan in 1922 and was listed as one of the Top 30 Australian songs of all time coming in at number 11.

Along The Road To Gundagai

by Jack O’Hagan

There’s a track winding back
to an old-fashioned shack,
Along the road to Gundagai.

Where the gum trees are growin’
and the Murrumbidgee’s flowin’
beneath the starry sky.

Oh my mother and daddy are waitin’ for me
And the pals of my childhood once more I will see
And no more will I roam ‘cos I’m headin’ right for home
Along the road to Gundagai.

One of a couple of old Australian songs about the “road to Gundagai”. Gundagai is a town in New South Wales.  Although a small town, Gundagai is a popular topic for writers and has become the representation or an icon of the typical Australian country town. It sits along the Murrumbidgee River.

ON THE ROAD TO GUNDAGAI

Anonymous

Oh, we started down from Roto when the sheds had all cut out,
We’d whips and whips of Rhino as we meant to push about,
So we humped our blues serenely and made for Syndey town,
With a three-spot cheque between us, as wanted knocking down.

Chorus:
But we camped at Lazy Harry’s, on the road to Gundagai.
The road to Gundagai!  Not five miles from Gundagai!
Yes, we camped at Lazy Harry’s, on the road to Gundagai.

Well, we struck the Murrumbidgee near the Yanco in a week,
And passed through old Narrandera and crossed the Burnett Creek.
And we never stopped at Wagga, for we’d Sydney in our eye,
But we camped at Lazy Harry’s, on the road to Gundagai.

Oh, I’ve seen a lot of girls, my boys, and drunk a lot of beer,
And I’ve met with some of both, chaps, as has left me mighty queer,
But for beer to knock you sideways, and for girls to make you sigh,
You must camp at Lazy Harry’s, on the road to Gundagai.

Well we chucked our blooming swags off, and we walked into the bar,
And we called for rum-an’-raspb’ry and a shilling each cigar.
Bur the girl that served the pizen, she winked at Bill and I –
And we camped at Lazy Harry’s, not five miles from Gundagai.

In a week the spree was over and the cheque was all knocked down,
So we shouldered our Matildas, and we turned our back on town,
And the girls they stood a nobbler as we sadly said good-bye,
And we tramped from Lazy Harry’s, not five miles from Gundagai.

Last chorus:
And we tramped from Lazy Harry’s, nor five miles from Gundagai.

© AYArktos - The famous 'Dog on the Tucker Box' 5 miles from Gundagai.