The Squatter, Three Cornstalks, And The Well

(A Dirge of Sin and Sorrow, Sung by Joe Swallow)     There was a Squatter in the land,     So runs the truthful tale I tell,     There also were three cornstalks, and     There also was the Squatters Well.     Singing (slowly): Sin and sorrer, sin and sor-rer, sin and sor-r-r-rer.     The Squatter he was full of pluck,     The Cornstalks they were full of sin,     The well it was half full of muck     That many rains had drifted in.     Singing (with increased feeling): Sin, &c.     The Squatter hired the Cornstalks Three     To cleanse the well of mud and clay;     And so they started willing-lee     At five-and-twenty bob a day.     Singing (apprehensively): Sin, &c.     At five-and-twenty bob the lot,     Thats eight-and-four the day would bring     To each; and so they thought theyd got     A rather soft and easy thing.     Singing (sadly): Sin, &c.     The Cornstalks cleaned the well within     A day or two, or thereabout,     And then they worked an awful sin,     A scheme to make the job last out.     Singing (reproachfully): Sin and sorrer, &c.     For when the well was cleaned out quite     Of all its logs and muck and clay     They tipped a drayload down at night     And worked to haul it up next day.     Singing (dismally): Sin, &c.     But first the eldest, christened Hodge,     He greased the dray-wheel axles, so     The super wouldnt smell the dodge     And couldnt let the Squatter know.     Singing (hopelessly): Sin and sorrer, &c.     The stuff they surfaced out each day     With some surprise the Squatter saw.     He never dreamt the sand and clay     Was three miles off the night before.     Singing (mournfully): Sin and sorrer, &c.     But he got something in his eye;     It wasnt green, thats very plain.     He said the well was rather dry,     And they could fill it up again.     Singing (mournfully and dismally): Sin and sorrer, &c.     The Cornstalks went to work next day     In hope, of course, of extra tin,     The Squatter watched, and, sad to say,     The mullock wouldnt all go in.     Singing (with great pathos): Sin and sorrer, &c.     And though the Cornstalks twigged the ruse     Whereby the boss had done em brown,     They argued that the clay was loose,     And wanted time to settle down.     Singing (hopelessly): Sin and sorrer, &c.     The boss began to rave and tear,     And yelled with a most awful frown,     I will not settle up, I swear,     Till that there clay is settled down!     Singing (hopefully): Sin, &c.     Before my cheques yerIl pocket, boys,     Yerll put a mountain in a well,     The Cornstalks didnt make a noise,     They only murmured sadly, !     Singing (triumphantly): Sin and sorrer, &c.     MORAL:     There is a moral to my rhyme,     A moral to the dirge I sing,     That when you do go in for crime     You mustnt overdoo the thing.     Singing (more dismally than ever): Sin and sorrer, s-i-n and sor-r-r-r-rer!