Got any work to do, Sir,
Anything like a job ?
Any thing tike an honest chance
To earn a couple of bob ?
I've tramped from the Widgeegoary
Looking around for work.
I'm young, and handy, and willing,
And not the man to shirk.
I'm not one of those town chaps
That's all at sea in the bush.
I was bred up to every bush job
And I didn't want for "push"
But there's men from the coast districts
Where work is rather slack
Are driven out here to cut the rates
On shearers bred "out back."
And shearers come from the Downs, Sir,
Many a hundred mile
To get what work is going--
But it's hardly worth their while.
The banks are sick of stations
And won't advance the cash.
If there ain't a few good seasons
The squatters 'll go smash.
Most of the country is fenced now.
There's little o' that to be done.
They can't go in for improvements
Or spend a pound on the run.
They've sunk all the tanks and the dams, Sir,
Their pockets at present can stand.
And it's not very likely out here, Sir,
That selectors will go on the land.
The stations are mostly in "Queer-street"
And up to the necks, Sir, in debt.
They cannot afford to give work Sir,
At least for a year or two yet.
Good day, Sir, I'll come in the morning,
Oh, no, I'm not like to forget
When a job's to be had, in these hard times
It won't go a-begging, you bet.
"Ithuriel"
Wanted, the Abolition of the Queensland Slave Trade.
Notes
From the Brisbane Newspaper The Worker 8 May 1897 p. 5..