The Fine Old Queensland Squatter
I'll sing you a bran new song, that was made by a fast young pate,Of a fine old Queensland squatter, who had a large estate ;
His hut was built of iron bark, with shingles of the same,
With a green-hide door wide open, for each traveller as he came. Like a fine old Queensland squatter, one of the olden time. His walls of slabs were hung around with trophies of the chase,
With dingo skins, and emu legs, it was a sporting place ;
And there old Blowhard smoked his pipe, a black dhudeen of clay,
And tapped his keg, and spun tough yarns, to drive blue fiends away. Like a fine old, &c. In Limestone town his custom wee, just once a year, d'ye see,
To sell his wool, and square his books, and have a jolly spree ;
And who when there could rival him at dinner, or at ball ?
In mirth, and fun, and jollity, he far outshone them all. Like a fine old, &c. Those good old times are altered now, and altered for the worse,
The banks and land sharks have it all--they're
Queensland's greatest curse--
The brave old squatter's driven back; we miss his friendly hand,
The honest smile, the hearty joke, that made a happy land. Like a fine old, &c. And now the old brick's far away, we'll drink success to him ;
When hungry land sharks all have sunk, may he be seen to swim ;
At Bowen town, or Spencer's Gulf, wherever he maybe,
His flocks increase, his heart grow young on damper, beef, and tea. Like a fine old, &c. BOIARDO.
Goondiwindi, June 7th, 1867.
Notes
From the Queensland Times, Ipswich Herald & General Advertiser 15 June 1867.