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Banjo Paterson - Jim Carew
Work rating: Low

Born of a thoroughbred English race,
Well proportioned and closely knit,
Neat, slim figure and handsome face,
Always ready and always fit,
Hardy and wiry of limb and thew,
That was the ne`er-do-well Jim Carew.
One of the sons of the good old land —
Many a year since his like was known;
Never a game but he took command,
Never a sport but he held his own;
Gained at his college a triple blue —
Good as they make them was Jim Carew.
Came to grief — was it card or horse?
Nobody asked and nobody cared;
Ship him away to the bush of course,
Ne`er-do-well fellows are easily spared;
Only of women a sorrowing few
Wept at parting from Jim Carew.

Gentleman Jiim on the cattle-camp,
Sitting his horse with an easy grace;
But the reckless living has left its stamp
In the deep drawn linies of that handsome face,
And the harder look in those eyes of blue:
Prompt at a quarrel is Jim Carew.

Billy the Lasher was out for gore —
Twelve-stone navvy with chest of hair —
When he opened out with a hungry roar
On a ten-stone man, it was hardly fair;
But his wife was wise if his face she knew
By the time you were done with him, Jim Carew.
Gentleman Jim in the stockmen`s hut
Works with them, toils with them, side by side;
As to his past — well, his lips are shut.
"Gentleman once," say his mates with pride,
And the wildest Cornstalk can ne`er outdo
In feats of recklessness Jim Carew.

What should he live for? A dull despair!
Drink is his master and drags him down,
Water of Lethe that drowns all care.
Gentleman Jiim has a lot to drown,
And he reigns as king with a drunken crew,
Sinking to misery, Jim Carew.

Such is the end of the ne`er-do-well —
Jimmy the Boozer, all down at heel;
But he straightens up when he`s asked to tell
His name and race, and a flash of steel
Still lightens up in those eyes of blue —
"I am, or — no, I was — Jim Carew."
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