Oh, the new-chum went to the back block run,But he should have gone there last week.He tramped ten miles with a loaded gun,But of turkey or duck he saw never a one,For he should have been there last week,They said,There were flocks of 'em there last week.
He wended his way to a waterfall,And he should have gone there last week.He carried a camera, legs and all,But the day was hot, and the stream was small,For he should have gone there last week,They said.They drowned a man there last week.
He went for a drive, and he made a start,Which should have been made last week,For the old horse died of a broken heart;So he footed it home and he dragged the cart—But the horse was all right last week,They said.He trotted a match last week.
So he asked the bushies who came from farTo visit the town last week,If they'd dine with him, and they said 'Hurrah!But there wasn't a drop in the whisky jar—You should have been here last week,He said,I drank it all up last week!