Hawking

written by


« Reload image

Now, shut your mouths, you loafers all,
 You vex me with your twaddle,
You own a nag or big or small,
 A bridle and a saddle;
I you advise, at once be wise
 And waste no time in talking,
Procure some bags of damaged rags
 And make your fortune hawking.


 CHORUS
Hawk, hawk, hawk.
Our bread to win, we'll all begin
To hawk, hawk, hawk.
The stockmen and the bushmen and
 The shepherds leave the station,
And hardy bullock-punchers throw
 Aside their occupation;
While some have horses, some have drays,
 And some on foot are stalking;
We surely must conclude it pays
 When all are going hawking.

Chorus: Hawk, hawk, hawk, etc
The life it is so full of bliss
 'Twould suit the very niggers,
And lads I know a-hawking go
 Who scarce can make the figures;
But penmanship's no requisite;
 Keep matters square by chalking
With pencil or with ruddle - that's
 Exact enough for hawking.

Chorus: Hawk, hawk, hawk, etc
The hawker's gay for half the day,
 While others work he's spelling;
Though he may stay upon the way,
 His purse is always swelling;
With work his back is never bent,
 His hardest toil is talking;
Three hundred is the rate per cent.
 Of profit when a-hawking.

Chorus: Hawk, hawk, hawk, etc
Since pedlaring yields more delight
 Than ever digging gold did,
And since to fortune's envied height
 The path I have unfolded,
We'll fling our moleskins to the dogs
 And don tweeds without joking,
And honest men as well as rogues
 We'll scour the country hawking.


Chorus: Hawk, hawk, hawk, etc

© Anonymous