Explore "The Squatter's Man" by Andrew Barton Paterson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Come, all ye lads an' list to me, / That's left your homes an' crossed the sea, / To try your fortune, bound or free, / All in this golden land. / For twelve long months I had to pace, / Humping my swag with a cadging face, / Sleeping in the bush, like the sable race, / As in my song you'll understand.
Unto this country I did come, / A regular out-and-out new chum. / I then abhorred the sight of rum -- / Teetotal was my plan. / But soon I learned to wet one eye -- / Misfortune oft-times made me sigh. / To raise fresh funds I was forced to fly, / And be a squatter's man.