The Son of a Jackaroo [song, 1902]

[Editor: This was written in the vernacular style of the day, including a particular style of emphasis in the spelling of some words, including: aout, araound, raound, and taown.]

The Son of a Jackaroo.

’E’s a lazy sort o’ feller an ’e loafs araound all day,
’Sif th’ diggins wuz intended as a kind o’ place ter play.
That s a sort o’ way that you an’ me ud never care ter do,
But ’e s nothin’ but an ordinary son-of-a-jackaroo.

When th’ fellers is a diggin’ jest like wombats left an’ right,
An’ washin’ aout th’ gravel beds with all their bloomin’ might,
Jest ter fancy ’im a loungin there an’ squintin’ at ’is shoe,
For ’e’s nothin but an ordinary son-of-a-jackaroo.

’E can ’andle cards an’ counters, but ’e’s nothin’ with a pick.
Why, ter see ’im peckin raound a bit ud make a feller sick,
Till a larrikin came up from taown an’ beat ’im black an blue,
That same good-fer-nothin’ ordinary son-of-a-jackaroo.

I say but it wuz jolly good ter see th’ begger run,
’E struck off like an emu when th’ larrikin wuz done,
An ’e’ ’ollard bloody murder like a screamin’ cockatoo,
Did that good-fer-nothin’ ordinary son-of-a- jackaroo !



Source:
Charles Keeler. A Wanderer’s Songs of the Sea, A.M. Robertson, San Francisco, 1902, pages 35-36

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