IM travellin down the Castlereagh, and Im a station hand,
Im handy with the ropin pole, Im handy with the brand,
And I can ride a rowdy colt, or swing the axe all day,
But theres no demand for a station-hand along the Castlereagh. +
So its shift, boys, shift, for there isnt the slightest doubt
That weve got to make a shift to the stations further out,
With the pack-horse runnin after, for he follows like a dog,
We must strike across the country at the old jig-jog.
This old black horse Im ridingif youll notice whats his brand,
He wears the crooked R, you seenone better in the land.
He takes a lot of beatin, and the other day we tried,
For a bit of a joke, with a racing bloke, for twenty pounds a side.
It was shift, boys, shift, for there wasnt the slightest doubt
That I had to make him shift, for the money was nearly out;
But he cantered home a winner, with the other one at the flog
Hes a red-hot sort to pick up with his old jig-jog.
I asked a cove for shearin once along the Marthaguy:
We shear non-union here, says he. I call it scab, says I.
I looked along the shearin floor before I turned to go
There were eight or ten dashed Chinamen a-shearin in a row.
It was shift, boys, shift, for there wasnt the slightest doubt
It was time to make a shift with the leprosy about.
So I saddled up my horses, and I whistled to my dog,
And I left his scabby station at the old jig-jog.
I went to Illawarra, where my brothers got a farm,
He has to ask his landlords leave before he lifts his arm;
The landlord owns the country sideman, woman, dog, and cat,
They havent the cheek to dare to speak without they touch their hat.
It was shift, boys, shift, for there wasnt the slightest doubt
Their little landlord god and I would soon have fallen out;
Was I to touch my hat to him?was I his bloomin dog?
So I makes for up the country at the old jig-jog.
But its time that I was movin, Ive a mighty way to go
Till I drink artesian water from a thousand feet below;
Till I meet the overlanders with the cattle comin down,
And Ill work a while till I make a pile, then have a spree in town.
So, its shift, boys, shift, for there isnt the slightest doubt
Weve got to make a shift to the stations further out;
The pack-horse runs behind us, for he follows like a dog,
And we cross a lot of country at the old jig-jog.