For three long months I've got to work at night.
I miss me girl, I miss me pot o' beer,
And, dinkey dye, I miss them picksure lights,
I wonder what it is that mocks a bloke,
And drives him on this double shifted joint.
I wonder if them "Scruts," they work their 'eads,
And puts one up, and shows a man a point. Me cliner said to me, "Now look 'ere boy,
If yer pulls a double shift yer name is mud,
For if yer thinks I'm goin' to sit at 'ome and mope,
While yer at work, well then yer comes a thud."
And so I've lost me tart, an' now some straw 'at cow
Is spittin' tales of love into 'er ear.
Gor blimey, but it makes a fellow wild,
Enuff to put him on the stringy beer. But when the little birds is matin' in the spring,
And when the salt bush blooms upon Jim Axim's hill,
And Harry Laney's corn is wavin' 'igh,
And day shift won a hundred points to nil,
I'll take me dollars up to Randwick course
An' all the books for miles around I'll break.
I'll buy a car and marry my Doreen--
And then half past five will blow, and then I'll wake. Notes From the NSW Newspaper The Illawarra Mercury 11 Aug 1922 p. 4.