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 its 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
The tar-boy is there waiting on demand With his blackened tar pot in his tarry hand Spies one old sheep with a cut upon its back Hears what he's wiating for its 'Tars here JAck!
Now the shearing is over, we've all got our cheques So roll up your swags and its off down the trrack The first pub we come to its there we'll have a spree And everyone that comes along its "Have a drink with me"
There we leave him standing shouting for hands Whilsat all around him everyt shouter stands His eye is on the keg which now is lowering fast, He works hard, he drinks hard, and goes to hell at last
