Aw, I’m sick of the whole darn human race,
And I’m sick of this earthly ball;
I’m sick of the sight of my brother’s face,
And his works and talk and all;
I’m sick of he silly sounds I hear,
I’m sick of the sights I see;
Omar Khayyam he knew good cheer,
And it’s much the same with me.
Give me a bit of a bough to sit
Beneath, and a book of rhyme,
And a cuddlesome girl that sings a bit,
But don’t sing all the time:
That’s all I ask, and it’s only just;
For it’s all that I hold dear —
A bough and a book and a girl and a crust;
That, and a jug o’ beer.
Then I’ll cuddle my girl and I’ll quaff me ale
As we sit on the leafy floor;
And when the book and the beer jug fail,
I’ll cuddle my girl some more.
For jugs give out and books get slow.
But you can take my tip for square —
Though the bough and the book and the beer jug go,
The girl, she’s always there.
I’m sick of the sound of my fellow’s voice,
I’m sick of his schemes and shams;
Of trying to choose when there ain’t no choice,
And of daming several damns;
So, give me a girl that ain’t too slow.
You can keep your book of rhyme
And you bough and bread and your beer. Wot O!
And I’ll cuddle her all the time.
C. J. Dennis, Backblock Ballads and Later Verses, Sydney: Angus & Robertson, 1918, pages 78-79
Previously published in:
C. J. Dennis, Backblock Ballads and Other Verses, Melbourne: E. W. Cole, , pages 185-186