Mustering Song

The boss last night in the hut did say "We start to muster at break of day; So be up first thing, and don't be slow; Saddle your horses and off you go." So early in the morning, so early in the morning, So early in the morning, before the break of day. Such a night in the yard there never was seen (The horses were fat and the grass was green): Bursting of girths and slipping of packs As the stockmen saddled the fastest hacks. Across the plain we jog along Over gully, swamp, and billabong; We dropp on a mob pretty lively, too We round 'em up and give 'em a slue. Now the scrub grows thick and the cattle are wild, A regular caution to this 'ere child A new chum man on an old chum horse, Who sails through the scrub as a matter of course. I was close up stuck in a rotten bog; I got a buster jumping a log; I found this scouting rather hot, So I joined the niggers with the lot we'd got. A long-haired shepherd we chanced to meet With a water bag, billy, and dog complete; He came too close to a knocked up steer, Who up a sapling made him clear. Now on every side we faintly hear The crack of the stockwhip drawing near; To the camp the cattle soon converge, As from the thick scrub they emerge. We hastily comfort the inner man With the warm contents of the billy can; The beef and damper are passed about Before we tackle the cutting out. We're at it now—that bally calf Would surely make a sick man laugh; The silly fool can't take a joke; I hope some day in the drought he'll croak. We've 'em now—the cows and calves (Things here are never done by halves): Strangers, workers, and milkers, too, Of scrubbers also not a few. It's getting late, we'd better push; 'Tis a good long way across the bush, And the mob to drive are middling hard; I do not think we'll reach the yard.