Page 24 - eMuse Vol.9 No.08
P. 24
The Swagman
and His
Mate
by Henry Lawson
Lets Have A
Royal Commission
From north to south throughout the year;
The shearing season run,
The Queensland stations start to shear
When Maoriland is done; by John Bidgood
But labour’s cheap and runs are wide, Let`s have a royal commission into the banking game
And some the track must tread, Let`s also have another one into our disability shame
From New Year’s Day till Christmastide Our aged care industry is also in total disarray
and never get a shed! They are all overseen by government, what more can I say
North, west, and south — south, west, and north — A royal commission will give them answer`s they should already know
They lead and follow Fate — They were elected by the people to put on a show
The swagman and his mate.
A royal commission will cost taxpayers millions of dollars
A restless, homeless class they are, Because the people we elect with their shining white collars
Who tramp in border land. Could not run a bar-b-que in your backyard
They take their rest ‘neath moon and star — Without giving your guests the steak all burned & charred
Their bed the desert sand, We pay them thousands of dollars with a pension for life
On sunset tracks they ride and tramp, They give us nothing in return except a heap of strive
Till speech has almost died,
And still they drift from camp to camp The banks have been ripping people of for years
In silence side by side. They have shown no respect, they have shown no fear
They think and dream as all men do, The government has let it happen day after day
Each other’s thoughts are sacred to Now they call a royal commission & we all must pay
The swagman and his mate. The government cannot look after our disabled folk
The taxpayer thinks our government is a bloody joke
With scrubs beneath the stifling skies,
Unstirred by heaven’s breath; They say let`s have a royal commission & see what is wrong
Beyond the Darling timber lies, The people say to the government it has been happening for too long
The land of living death! Our aged care homes have for years been riddled with abuse
A land that wrong born poets brave, The government turn a blind eye, they look for an excuse
Till dulled minds cease to grope — But again, it is a lack of respect by some staff members
A land where all things perish, save, Respect needs to be shown no matter what the gender
The memories of Hope, So, I think anther royal commission should be on the books
When daylight’s fingers point outback, Fully funded by politicians, looking at our parliamentary crooks
(and seem to hesitate), To weed out all the dead wood & take them off the floor
The far faint dust cloud marks their track, Pick them up by the scruff of their neck & throw them out the back door
The swagman and his mate. Take away their life pensions & all their free kick backs & handouts
And one who followed through the scrub, Elect some people to our house who have some business clout
And out across the plain, I`ll tell all you people, we are going down the Shute
And only in a bitter mood Australia was a country where we all said “She`s a beaut”
Would see those tracks again; But our country is going down hill at a rapid pace
Can only write what he has seen — And we need some decent politicians to save our bloody face
Can only give his hand —
And greet those mates in words that mean © John Bidgood February 2019
“I know.” “I understand.”
I hope they’ll find the squatter “white”,
The cook and shearers “straight,” a|b
When they have reached the shed to-night —
The swagman and his mate.
24 eMuse August 2020
