station life view 7


Punch Christmas Chronicle

Tune: A Bushman’s Life For me
SITE SOURCE: Bush Life

The Song of the Jackaroo

Who would not be a bushman, to lead a life so free,
And live on half-starved mutton cooked by sleek Ah Mee;
To ride about all day, a life fit for the gods,
And come home late at night to feast on damper sods?

chorus
Hurrah! Hurrah! For salt junk and for tea,
Hurrah! Hurrah! A bushman’s life for me;
To ride about all day, a life fit for the gods,
And come home late at night to feast on damper sods.

Away, you city scoffers, what know you of joy
And heavenly bliss which fills the heart of that bold boy
Who canters over the downs with rein held low and slack,
upon a steed with ghastly sore upon his back.

What matters it the heat, when there’s a Barcoo breeze?
What trouble is the sun, when there are shady trees?
Just lie down under one beside your dog who pants,
And find true comfort here reposing with the ants.

Go you city scoffers, we do not want you here.
Go back unto your pavements, go back unto your beer;
That man is happier far who works the plough and scoop,
And drinks from out the creek the water like pea-soup.

away, you city scoffers, go back unto your shops,
You ne’er can realise the beauties of fried chops,
The beauties of a camp with nary sign of feed,
The beauties of the scorpion and the centipede.

And you my noble nag, you’ve never yet been stalled,
What though your back be blistered, and belly rather galled;
You cannot speak your joys, nor use a great big D,
Though I can swear at you, you cannot swear at me.

Then let us off together, I’ll mount upon your back,
And soon the sheep we’ll drive along the dusty track;
A canter first, then walk, eight hours before we rest,
No matter what folks say, a bushman’s life is best.