Out on the board the old shearer stands
Grasping his shears in his thin bony hands
Fixed is his gaze on a bare-bellied yoe
Glory if he gets her, won't he make the ringer go.
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 bare-bellied yoe.
In the middle of the floor in his cane bottomed chair
Sits the boss of the board with his eyes everywhere
Notes well each fleece as it comes to the screen
Paying strict attention that it's taken off clean.
The colonial experience man he is there of course
With his shiny leggin's on just got off his horse
Gazes all around him like a real connoisseur
Scented soap and brilliantine and smelling like a whore.