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Banjo Paterson - That Half-Crown Sweep [A Tale of the Territory]
Work rating: Low

The run of Billabong-go-dry
Is just beyond Lime Burner`s Gap;
Its waterhole and tank supply
Is excellent — upon the map.
But lacking nature`s liquid drench,
The station staff are wont to try
With "Bob-in Sweeps" their thirst to quench,
Or nearly quench, at Bong-go-dry.

The parson made five-yearly rounds
That soil of arid souls to delve,
He wrote, "I`ll come for seven pounds,
Or I could stop away for twelve."
But lack of lucre brought about
The pusillanimous reply:
"Our luxuries are all cut out,
You`ll have to go to Bong-go-dry."

Now rabbit skins were very high —
There`d been a kind of rabbit rush —
And what with traps and sticks they`d shy,
The station blacks were very flush,
And each was taught his churchman`s job,
"When that one parson`s plate comes roun`
No good you put in sprat or bob,
Too quick you put in harp-a-crown."

The parson`s word was duly kept,
He came and did his bit of speak;
The boss remarked he hadn`t slept
So sound and well for many a week.
But Gilgai Jack and Monkey Jaw
Regarded preaching as a crime
Against good taste; they said, "What for
That one chap yabber all the time?"

Proceedings ceased: the boss`s hat
Was raked from underneath his chair;
The coloured congregation sat
And waited with expectant air.
At last from one far-distant seat
Where Gilgai`s Mary`d been asleep,
There came a kind of plaintive bleat,
"Say, boss! Who won the harp-crown sweep?"
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