While The Billy BoilsSearchWe trucked the cows to Homebush, saw the girls, and started back,Went west, through Cunnamulla, and got on the Eulo track,Camped awhile at Goorybibil, — but Lord! you wouldn't knowIt for the place where you and Mick were stockmen long ago!
Young Merino bought the station, fenced the run and built a "shed,"Sacked the stockmen, sold the cattle, and put on sheep instead,But he wasn't built for Queensland, and every blooming yearOne hears of "labour troubles" when Merino starts to shear.
There are ructions with the rouseabouts and shearers strike galore,The likes were never heard of in the cattle days of yore,Whilest slowly round small pandocks now the sleeping lizards creep —AND GOORYBIBIL'S BEGGARED SINCE THE COUNTRY CARRIED SHEEP.
They've built "bush yards" on Wild Horse Creek, where in the morning's hushWe've sat silent in the saddle, and listened for the rushOf the cleanskins, — when we heard 'em it was "wheel 'em if you can,"While gidgee, pine, and mulga tried the the nerve of horse and man!
The boys were after horses ere the starlight waned away —The billy would be boiling by the breaking of the day,Whilst our horses — by "Protection" — were all in decent nick,When we rode up the Bidgee where the cleanskins mustered thick.
The "mickies" that we've branded there! the colts we had to ride! —In Goorybibil's palmy days, before the old boss died;Could Yorkie Hawkins see his run, I guess his heart would weep —FOR GOORYBIBIL'S BEGGARED — SINCE THE COUNTRY CARRIED SHEEP!
From sunrise unto sunset through the summer days we'd ride —And stockyard rails were up and pegged with cattle safe inside,When, twixt the gloaming and the dark we'd hear the welcome noteOf boistrous pealing laughter from the Kookaburra's throat.
Camped out beneath the starlit skies, — the treetops overhead,A saddle for a pillow and a blanket for a bed,'Twere pleasant, mate, to listen to the soughing of the breeze —And learn the lilting lullabies that stirred the mulga trees.
Our sleep was sound in those days, for the mustering days were hard, —The morrow's might be harder, with the brandings in the yard!But did you see the station now, — the men! and mokes! they keep —You'd own the place was beggared! — SINCE THE COUNTRY CARRIED SHEEP.