John sent me some shearing ditties he had remembered and added, “The good old days are gone for the shearing industry, with drought, recession, no support from the AWU and the wide comb, this industry is ruined.”
I have only heard a shearer sing one verse of the next item but it’s all I have:
He swore and cursed, as the shit bag burst,
As he reached for the needle and cotton.
Hooray for my mate!
Hooray at last
Hooray for my mate
For he’s a horse’s arse.