Comin’ ’Ome frum Shearin’ [poem by C.J. Dennis]

14 February 2013 by · Leave a Comment

[Editor: This poem by C.J. Dennis was published in Backblock Ballads and Other Verses (1913). Most of the poetry of C.J. Dennis is written in the style of the Australian vernacular. See the Glossary for explanations of words and phrases.]

Comin’ ’Ome frum Shearin’.

The shearin’ season’s over, an’ I’m ’umpin’ bluey ’ome,
Fur I’ve busted ev’ry penny thet I ’ad;
(Do ye ’ear?) —
The times wus pretty ’ot, an’ I sunk the blessed lot
In gamblin’ an’ in drinkin’ — w’ich is bad.
(Dam’ the beer).
In poker an’ in guzzlin’ — w’ich is bad!
An’ it’s —
Comin’ ’ome frum shearin’,
Walkin’ all the way;
An’ I made enough to ’ave a decent spell.
’Ome to wife an’ kiddies;
What’ll missus say? —
Comin’ ’ome from shearin’, stiff as ’ell.

I’ve been to Parachilna, an’ up around the Peak,
An’ work was alwa’s ready to me ’and
(At the board).
I grafted like a nigger, and I never spelled a week,
An’ now I’m comin’ ’ome without the sand.
(Oh, my Gord!)
Comin’ ’ome without the bloomin’ sand.
An’ it’s —
Comin’ ’ome, etc.

I’ve bin across the Border, an’ I’ve ’ad a decent shed;
An’ I shore me eighty nearly ev’ry day
(Bet your life).
But like a bloomin’ jackeroo, I let meself get bled,
An’ now I’m walkin’ ’ome without me pay —
(To me wife)
Back to ’ome, sweet ’ome, without me pay!
An’ it’s —
Comin’ ’ome, etc.

One day we started poker, cos it rained too ’ard to shear;
An’ I dropped a fortnight’s earnin’s by the night —
(It’s a craze).
An’ I spent a bit at Casey’s on the pigwash e’ calls beer,
An’ I lost a bloomin’ fiver awn a fight.
(Spare me days!)
Dropped a fiver on a Sunday mornin’ fight.
An’ it’s —
Comin’ ’ome, etc.

An’ when I finished up with ’em — about a week ago —
I ’ad about enough to pay the rent.
(It was wealth!)
But I stopped at Casey’s shanty, an’ I bust the bloomin’ show,
An’ now I’m crawlin’ ’ome without a cent.
(’Ere’s yer ’ealth!)
’Umpin’ bluey ’ome without a cent.
An’ it’s —
Comin’ ’ome frum shearin’,
Swearin’ all the way;
(I’ve sold me blinded ’orse, an’ boozed the stuff).
’Ome a stoney broker;
I dunno wot to say;
But I reckon thet I’ve said about enough!