Friday, March 18, 2011

In The Long View of Things - Post St. Paddy's and Other Things

cho: Here we are in New South Wales Shearing sheep as big as whales, with Leather necks and jaggy tails And hides as tough as rusty nails.When shearing comes, lay down your drumsStep to the boards you brand-new chumsWith the rattum-rattum-rub-a-dub-dubWe'll send you back on the lime juice tub.The brand new chums and cappy sonsFancy they're the greatest guns.Fancy they can shear the woolBut the beggars can only tear and pull.[ From:]Though you live beyond your meansYour daughters wear no crinolines;Nor are they bothered by boots or shoesBut live wild in the bush with the kangaroos.Oh it's home I'd like to beFar from the bush and back countrySixteen thousand miles I've comeTo spend my life as a shearing bum.

Well, if you've got a wing-o,
Take her up to Ring-o
Where the waxies sing-o all the day;
If you've had your fill of porter, And you can't go any further
Give your man the order: "Back to the Quay!"

And take her up to Monto, Monto, Monto
Take her up to Monto, lan-ge- roo,
To you!

Have you heard of Buckshot Forster,
The dirty old impostor
Took a mot and lost her, up the Furry Glen.
He first put on his bowler
And buttoned up his trousers,
Then whistled for a growler and he said, "My man!"

Take me up to Monto, Monto, Monto
Take me up to Monto, lan-ge- roo,
To you!

You've seen the Dublin Fusiliers,
The dirty old bamboozeleers,
De Wet'll kill them chiselers, one, two, three.
Marching from the Linen Hall
There's one for every cannonball,
And Vicky's going to send them all, o'er the sea.

But first go up to Monto, Monto, Monto
March them up to Monto, lan-ge- roo,
To you!

When Carey told on Skin-the-goat,
O'Donnell caught him on the boat
He wished he'd never been afloat, the dirty skite.
It wasn't very sensible
To tell on the Invincibles
They stand up for their principles, day and night.

And you'll find them all in Monto, Monto, Monto
Standing up in Monto, lan-ge- roo,
To you!

Now when the Tsar of Russia
And the King of Prussia
Landed in the Phoenix in a big balloon,
They asked the police band
To play "The Wearin' of the Green"
But the buggers from the depot didn't know the tune.

So they both went up to Monto, Monto, Monto
Scarpered up to Monto, lan-ge- roo,
To you!

The Queen she came to call on us,
She wanted to see all of us
I'm glad she didn't fall on us, she's eighteen stone.
"Mister Me Lord Mayor," says she,
"Is this all you've got to show me?"
"Why, no ma'am there's some more to see, Póg mo thóin!"

And he took her up Monto, Monto, Monto
He set her up in Monto, lan-ge- roo,
For you!

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