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Bloke in the Jacky HoweFrom the the Victorian newspaper the Horsham Times Tuesday 4 September 1928 p. 9.
(By "Dinkum Oil.")
Ho ! There's songs 'as bin sung erbout men,
'Oo are jockeys, an' bookies, an' pugs,
'An wild politicians 'oo spar for positions,
An' coots hit by milintry bugs;
Uv th' joker 'oo lives by th' pen,
They kick up a 'ell uv a row,
But gimme th' feller 'oo works 'an don't beller
Th' bloke in th' "Jacky Howe:"
You kin see 'im there where they's
crushin' stone, while th' air with dust is thick,
Where th' trench is deep at th' water
works 'e wields 'is shovel an' pick
Where th' great steel track winds th'
country thro', th' sweat's pourin' orf 'is brow,
As 'e dirives tht' spikes with 'is 'efty
strikes--th' bloke in th' "Jacky Howe."
Were th' timber's cut fer to build
our 'omes, you kin see 'im swing 'is blade,
An' th' traffic runs on th' metal road
that 'is industree 'as made;
An' th' bridges that o'er th' rivers
span are a credit, you must allow,
To th' man 'oo toils while th' 'ot sun
boils--the bloke in th' "'Jacky Howe."
At th' shearin' sheds on th' station
runs there 'e gathers th' season's clip,
'Mid th' 'um uv blades and th' shouts
uv "Tar'' while the great wool pressers rip.
At th' musterin' in th' far outback,
you will find 'im there I'll vow,
For th' out-door life is to 'im as wife--
the bloke in the "Jacky Howe''."
Where th' sugar cane is garnered in,
'neith th' glare uv th' tropic sun,
Where th' livin's 'ard an' th' mines
are deep, an' th' golden metal's won;
On th' overland with th' bullock teams,
where th' dust's blanky cow,
He's makin' 'is way from th' break o'
day--the bloke in th' "Jacky Howe."
In th' Mallie scrub, there 'e battles on,
'mid th' rain an' wind an' 'eat,
An' 'e fights th' fight with th' wilder-
ness for th' miles of wavin' wheat.
When th' crop is cut an' th' cartin'
done e's agen behind th' plough,
An' 'e sows th' seed--he's th' Aussie
breed, that bloke in th' "Jacky Howe."
So, sing you your songs erbout men,
Industreal magnets an' such;
Uv dooks an' uv preachers, an' loud
Gorblimey, they don't matter much!
I'm proud as a turkey-cock, when
I takes orf the lid an' I bow
Ter th' cheerful feller 'oo shows no yeller
Th' Bloke in th' "Jacky Howe"!
("Jacky Howe".--Outback term for heavy flannel shirt.)
australian traditional songs . . . a selection by mark gregory