Info:
LYRICS:
1. Out on the board the old shearer stands,
Clasping his shears in his thin bony hands,
Fixed in his eyes on a blue-bellied Joe;
Glory if he gets her won't he make the ringer go!
Chorus:
Click go the shears, boys, click, click, click,
Wide is his blow and his hands move quick,
The ringer looks around as he's beaten by a blow
And curses the old swagger with the blue-bellied Joe.
2. In the middle of the floor in his cane-bottomed chair
Is the boss of the board with eyes everywhere;
Notes well each fleece as it comes to the screen
Paying strict attention if it’s taken off clean. Refrain
3. The colonial experience man, he is there, of course,
With his shiny leggins, just got off his horse,
Casting round his eye like a real connoisseur,
Whistling the old tune, “I’m the Perfect Lure.” Refrain
4. The tar-boy is there, awaiting in demand,
With his blackened tar-pot, and his tarry hand,
Sees one old sheep with a cut upon its back,
Hears what he’s waiting for, “Tar here, Jack!” Refrain
5. Shearing is all over and we’ve all got our cheques,
Roll up your swag for we’re off on the tracks;
The first pub we come to, it’s there we’ll have a spree,
And everyone that comes along it’s, “Come and drink with me!” Refrain
