[Editor: This song was published in The Old Bush Songs (1905), edited by Banjo Paterson. It was previously published (with variations, including an extra verse) in The Queenslander, 4 October 1873.]
Hawking
(Air: “Bow, Wow, Wow.”)
Now, shut your mouths, you loafers all,
You vex me with your twaddle,
You own a nag or big or small,
A bridle and a saddle;
I you advise, at once be wise
And waste no time in talking,
Procure some bags of damaged rags
And make your fortune hawking.
Chorus
Hawk, hawk, hawk.
Our bread to win, we’ll all begin
To hawk, hawk, hawk.
The stockmen and the bushmen and
The shepherds leave the station,
And hardy bullock-punchers throw
Aside their occupation;
While some have horses, some have drays,
And some on foot are stalking;
We surely must conclude it pays
When all are going hawking.
Chorus: Hawk, hawk, hawk, &c
The life it is so full of bliss
’Twould suit the very niggers,
And lads I know a-hawking go
Who scarce can make the figures;
But penmanship’s no requisite;
Keep matters square by chalking
With pencil or with ruddle, that’s
Exact enough for hawking.
Chorus: Hawk, hawk, hawk, &c
The hawker’s gay for half the day,
While others work he’s spelling;
Though he may stay upon the way,
His purse is always swelling;
With work his back is never bent,
His hardest toil is talking;
Three hundred is the rate per cent.
Of profit when a-hawking.
Chorus: Hawk, hawk, hawk, &c
Since pedlaring yields more delight
Than ever digging gold did,
And since to fortune’s envied height
The path I have unfolded,
We’ll fling our moleskins to the dogs
And don tweeds without joking,
And honest men as well as rogues
We’ll scour the country hawking.
Chorus: Hawk, hawk, hawk, &c
Source:
A. B. Paterson (editor), The Old Bush Songs, Sydney: Angus and Robertson, 1905, pp. 76-78
Previously published (with variations, including an extra verse) in:
The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld.), 4 October 1873, p. 7
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