how are your crabs?how are your mulletshow are the junior...

  1. 41,215 Posts.
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    how are your crabs?
    how are your mullets
    how are the junior zipps
    `
    Its farking very cold here,,,,
    see lounge by by zoom zoom car............
    `
    see spot run
    see spot sit
    see spot take the asx
    and all its $hit
    and
    make a pile,,
    and as we used to sing in school
    afore geting sent for another caning from the head master
    `
    so its $shit boys $hit,,,
    for stations further out
    We got do make A $hit boys
    before we do a fart
    `
    If we do it fast enough
    We will sirvive the rout
    If we take a $hit boys now
    And that is no
    Boubt
    `

    Lyrics

    A.L. Lloyd sings The Castlereagh River

    I'm riding down the Castlereagh, and I'm a station-hand,
    I'm handy with the ropin', I'm handy with the brand.
    And I can ride a rowdy colt, or swing the axe all day;
    There's no demand for a station-hand along the Castlereagh.

    So shift, boys, shift, for there ain't the slightest doubt:
    It's time to make a move to the stations further out.
    So I'll saddle up my pack-horse and I whistle to me dog;
    I'm riding across the country at the old jig-jog.

    I asked a feller for shearin' once along the Marthaguy.
    “We shear non-union here,” says he. “I call it scab,” says I.
    I took a look along the board before I turned to go:
    There was twenty flamin' china-men shearin'in a row.

    So shift, boys, shift, for there ain't the slightest doubt:
    It's time to make a move with the leprosy about.
    So I'll saddle up my pack-horse and I whistle to me dog;
    I left his scabby station at the old jig-jog.

    I went to Illawarra where my brother's got a farm.
    They have to ask the landlord's leave before they lifts their arm.
    The landlord owns the countryside: man, woman, dog and cat,
    And they haven't the cheek to dare to speak without they lift their hat

    So shift, boys, shift, for there ain't the slightest doubt,
    Their flamin' landlord god and I would soon have fallen out:
    Was I to raise my hat to him? Was I his blasted dog?
    I'm riding across the country at the old jig-jog.

    `

 
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