| D | G | |
| Out on the board the | old shearer stands |
| D | E7 | A7 | |
| Grasping his shears in his | thin bony | hands |
| D | G | |
| Fixed is his gaze on a | bare bellied yoe |
| A7 | D | |
| Glory if he gets her, won't he | make the ringer go |
| Chorus |
| A7 | D | |
| Click go the Shears boys, | click, click, click |
| G | D | A | |
| Wide is his blow and his | hands move | quick The |
| D | G | |
| ringer looks around and is | beaten by a blow and |
| A7 | D | |
| curses the old bugger with the b | are bellied yoe |
| In the middle of the floor in his cane bottomed chair |
| Sits the boss of the board with his eyes everywhere |
| Notes well each fleece as it comes to the screen |
| Paying strict attention that its taken off clean |
| The colonial experience man, he is there of course |
| With his shiny leggin's on, just got off his horse |
| Gazes all around him like a real connoisseur |
| Scented soap, and brilliantine and smelling like a whore |
| The tar-boy is there waiting on demand |
| With his blackened tar pot in his tarry hand |
| Spies one old sheep with a cut upon its back |
| Hears what he's wiating for its 'Tars here JAck! |
| Now the shearing is over, we've all got our cheques |
| So roll up your swags and its off down the trrack |
| The first pub we come to its there we'll have a spree |
| And everyone that comes along its "Have a drink with me" |
| There we leave him standing shouting for hands |
| Whilsat all around him everyt shouter stands |
| His eye is on the keg which now is lowering fast, |
| He works hard, he drinks hard, and goes to hell at last |
| - submitted by Mike Hiltonwood |