Hawking

(Air: Bow, Wow, Wow.)     Now, shut your mouths, you loafers all,         You vex me with your twaddle,     You own a nag or big or small,         A bridle and a saddle;     I you advise at once be wise         And waste no time in talking,     Procure some bags of damaged rags         And make your fortune hawking.                              Chorus          Hawk, hawk, hawk.          Our bread to win, well all begin          To hawk, hawk, hawk.     The stockmen and the bushmen and         The shepherds leave the station,     And the hardy bullock-punchers throw         Aside their occupation;     While some have horses, some have drays,         And some on foot are stalking;     We surely must conclude it pays         When all are going hawking.          Chorus: Hawk, hawk, hawk, &c.     A life it is so full of bliss         Twould suit the very niggers,     And lads I know a-hawking go         Who scarce can make the figures     But penmanships no requisite,         Keep matters square by chalking     With pencil or with ruddle, thats         Exact enough for hawking.          Chorus: Hawk, hawk, hawk, &c.     The hawkers gay for half the day,         While others work hes spelling,     Though he may stay upon the way,         His purse is always swelling;     With work his back is never bent         His hardest toil is talking;     Three hundred is the rate per cent.         Of profit when a-hawking.          Chorus: Hawk, hawk, hawk, &c.     Since pedlaring yields more delight         Than ever digging gold did,     And since to fortunes envied height         The path I have unfolded,     Well fling our moleskins to the dogs         And don tweeds without joking,     And honest men as well as rogues         Well scour the country hawking.          Chorus: Hawk, hawk, hawk, &c.