Unknown
A strapping young fettler lay dying,
With a shovel supporting his head,
The ganger and crew round him crying,
And he let go his pick handle and said....
CHORUS::
Wrap me up in a tent or a fly, boys,
And bury me deep down below,
Where the trolley and trains won’t molest me,
To show there’s a navvy below.
There’s tea in the battered billy-can,
Place the dog spike out in a row,
And we’ll spike to the next merry meeting,
To show there’s a navvy below.
Hark! There’s the wail of a trolley,
Far, far away it seems clear,
It sounds like the inspector is coming
And hopes to see all of us here.
So, back to your shovels, my boy-lads,
And bed your backs with a will,
This inspector has no time of judgment,
But there’ll be a navvy who will.
Obviously a parody of The Dying Stockman. This one set to the more common tune for that song. I think the lyrics as collected are obviously incomplete.
You'll find this one in the collection of another great Mark Gregory site, Australian Railway Songs.
No comments:
Post a Comment