1. I'm a shearer, yes I am,|
And I've shorn 'em sheep and lamb,
From the Wimmera to the Darling Downs and back,
And I've rung a shed or two,
Where the fleece was tough as glue,
But I'll tell you where I struck the 'ardest tac.
2. I was down round Yenda way,
Killing time from day to day,
Till the big sheds started moving further out,
When I struck a bloke by chance,
That I summed up in a glance,
As a cocky from a vineyard round about.
3. Now it seems he picked me too;
Well, it wasn't hard to do
'Cause I had some tongs a-hangin' at the hip.
"I got a mob," he said,
"A mob about two hundred head
And I'll give a ten pun note to have the clip."
4. I says, "Right, I'll take the stand"
It meant gettin' in me hand,
And by nine o'clock
We'd rounded up the mob,
In a shed sunk in the ground,
Yeah, with wine casks all around
And that was where I started on me job.
5. I goes easy for a bit
While me hand was gettin' fit,
And by dinner-time I'd done some half a score,
With the cocky pickin' up
And handing me a cup
Of pinky after every sheep I shore.
6. The cocky had to go away,
About the seventh day,
After showing me the kind of cask to use,
Then I'd do the picking up
And manipulate the cup,
Strolling round them wine casks, just to pick and choose.
7. Then I'd stagger to the pen,
Grab a sheep and start again
With a noise between a hiccup and a sob
And sometimes I'd fall asleep
With me arms around the sheep,
Worn and weary from me over-arduous job.
8. And so six weeks went by,
Until one day with a sigh,
I pushed the dear old cobbler through the door,
Gathered in the cocky's pay,
Then staggered on me way
From the hardest bloody shed I ever shore.