A Shearing Song [For The Worker.]
We've knocked about in bush and' town, And. harsh rebuffs we've met ; For while the plains were bare and brown The grips were, hard to get.
But now the clouds are lifting, and Our troubles lighter press, As in a stiff but eager hand We grasp the T.U.S.
The T.U. Shears, the good old shears, The dandy shears, we vow ; They stood our friends in other years, They'll stand our comrades now.
So give your, call for " Wool away !" While close your maties press, And snowy fleeces all the day Fall from the T.U.S.
And when the weary shearer tries To swallow yarns at night, And when the liars start to rise The tallies out of sight,
'Tis then the cronk blades are abused, While all the guns confess 'The sweetest tongs we ever used — The good old T.U.S. !"
Now, we must close this simple song, For lights are going out — The shearer snores both deep and strong, So does the rouseabout.
And by the ringer's twitching hand Upon his cheek, I guess He's dreaming of his tallies grand — Made with the T.U.S.
RIVERINA. N.S.W.
Notes
From the Wagga NSW newspaper the Worker Saturday 15 August 1903 p. 3.