When the cranky German waggon,
With its ten or fifteen bag on
Comes a-jerkin’ and a-joltin’ down the dusty, limestone street,
And the “Norther’s” blowin’ blindin’,
And the rollers are a-grindin’,
And the agent jabs his sampler thro’ the sackin’ to the wheat,
Let ’em slide along the plank! slide along! slide along!
Sixty bushels for the Bank; slide along!

When your back is fairly breakin’
And your very fingers shakin’
With the heavin’, heavin’, heavin’, in the blarsted, blazin’ sun;
And the agent finds the spots out
And takes all his sample lots out
Where its rusty, pinched, or smutty—knockin’ off five pound a ton;
Sling ’em over with a jerk! slide along! slide along!
Sixty days of wasted work! slide along!

Sixty days a-ploughin’ mallee
In the God-forgotten valley
Of the creepin’, crawlin’ Murray, with the dingoes for your mates!
Sow and harrow, roll and reap it,
But you get no show to keep it,
For it’s “Boom and bust yer biler” when the cocky speculates!
Let the bankers take the lot: slide along! slide along!
Farmin’ mallee’s bloomin’ rot—slide along!