We want the man who will lead the van, The man who will pioneer.We have no use for the gentleman, Or the cheating Cheap-Jack here;We have no room for the men who shirk The sweat of the brow. CondemnThe men who are frightened to look for work And funk when it looks for them.
We'll honour the man who can't afford To wait for a job that suits,But sticks a swag on his shoulders broad And his feet in blucher boots,And tramps away o'er the ridges far And over the burning sandTo look for work where the stations are In the lonely Western land.
He'll brave the drouth and he'll brave the rain, And fight his sorrows down,And help to garden the inland plain And build the inland town;And he'll be found in the coming years With a heart as firm and stout,An honoured man with the pioneers Who lead the people out.
Sources, publication & text notesReference details
Canonical recordPOEM-000215
Copy-textProject Gutenberg Australia, Collected Poems of Henry Lawson (2022), anchor p18; selected digital copy-text retained exactly; wording and layout confirmed against Ironbark Resources under D-180
While The Billy BoilsSearch