I come from the South and my name is Field,
And when my shears are properly steeled,
A hundred and odd I have very often peeled,
And of course I’m a Ryebuck Shearer.
CHORUS:
If I don’t shear a tally, before I go,
My shears and my stone in the river I’ll throw,
I’ll never open Sawbees to take another blow,
And prove I’m a Ryebuck shearer.
There’s a bloke on the board, I heard him say,
That I couldn’t shear a hundred sheep a day,
But some fine day I’ll show him the way,
And prove I’m a Ryebuck shearer.
(chorus)
Oh, I’ll make a splash, but I won’t say when,
I’ll hop of my arse and into the pen,
While the ringer’s shearing five, I’ll shear ten,
And prove I’ a Ryebuck shearer.
(chorus)
There’s a bloke on board, or so I’ve heard,
With a face just like a buffalo turd,
If you think that’s bad, well, you should see his bird,
And of course he’s a Ryebuck shearer.
(chorus)
There’s a bloke on the board and he’s got yellow skin,
A very long nose and he shaves on the chin,
And a voice like a billy-goat pissing in a tin,
And of course he’s a Ryebuck shearer.
(chorus)