shearers: poems

It may surprise you to know that this poem was written in the 1930's by a man living near Gundagai, NSW.
It was given to Euroa Shearing Association by Mr. Alec Watson, of Euroa, retired Stock and Station agent who was based for many years in Jerilderie, NSW. Little has changed for the farmer!

It's hard to be called a 'has-been' and be told
you've 'done your trot'
And your country doesn't need you
and you might as well be shot
That the wool you grow is useless and the sheep
you own are worse
And the piece of land you live on
isn't worth a tinkers curse.

You haven't any credit and your overdraft's immense
You'd scamper for the city if you had a drop of sense
But - if you're born and bred here
and you've got a bit of guts
You'll tell the smart economists'
they're economic nuts.

Sure, we've drought and a recession
and the outlook's pretty poor
But the man who lives with sheep and wool
has seen it all before
Has seen it and survived it,
though he is getting rather tired
Of providing, with his sheep,
the back on which his fellows ride.

In the good times - when they came around
and wool was worth a lot
The Tax Man reaped a harvest
and took most of what we got
He took it and he used it,
financed cities, ports and mines
Now he says they're self supporting
and the country's credit shines.

But, I wonder would he listen
if I cracked a warning whip
A worn out mine's an empty hole
and a port needs things to ship
And the way the country's going
with inflation running rife
Our export costs are going to run us really into strife.

Now if I were a gambling man I'd make a little bet
That when the mine dust settles,
we'll be shearing woollies yet.