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Banjo Paterson - It`s Grand
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It`s grand to be a squatter
And sit upon a post,
And watch your little ewes and lambs
A-giving up the ghost.

It`s grand to be a "cockie"
With wife and kids to keep,
And find an all-wise Providence
Has mustered all your sheep.

It`s grand to be a Western man,
With shovel in your hand,
To dig your little homestead out
From underneath the sand.

It`s grand to be a shearer
Along the Darling-side,
And pluck the wool from stinking sheep
That some days since have died.

It`s grand to be a rabbit
And breed till all is blue,
And then to die in heaps because
There`s nothing left to chew.

It`s grand to be a Minister
And travel like a swell,
And tell the Central District folk
To go to — Inverell.

It`s grand to be a socialist
And lead the bold array
That marches to prosperity
At seven bob a day.

It`s grand to be unemployed
And lie in the Domain,
And wake up every second day —
And go to sleep again.

It`s grand to borrow English tin
To pay for wharves and docks
And then to find it isn`t in
The little money-box.

It`s grand to be a democrat
And toady to the mob,
For fear that if you told the truth
They`d hunt you from your job.

It`s grand to be a lot of things
In this fair Southern land,
But if the Lord would send us rain,
That would, indeed, be grand!
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