Lyr. Add: Billy Barlow in Australia
ed. A. D. "Banjo" Paterson

When I was at home I was down on my luck,
And I earned a poor living by drawing a truck;
But old aunt died, and left me a thousand-- "Oh, oh,
I'll start on my travels," said Billy Barlow.
Oh, dear, lackaday, oh,
So off to Australia came Billy Barlow.

When to Sidney I got, there a merchant I met,
Who said he would teach me a fortune to get;
He'd cattle and sheep past the colony's bounds,
Which he sold with the station for my thousand pounds.
Oh, dear, lackaday, oh,
He gammon'd the cash out of Billy Barlow.

When the bargain was struck, and the money was paid,
He said, "My dear fellow, your fortune is made;
I can furnish supplies for the station, you know,
And your bill is sufficient, good fellow Barlow."
Oh, dear, lackaday, oh,
A gentleman settler was Billy Barlow.

So I got my supplies, and I gave him my bill,
And for New England started, my pockets to fill;
But by bushrangers met, with my traps they made free,
Took my horse, and left Billy bailed up to a tree.
Oh, dear, lackaday, oh,
"I shall die of starvation," thought Billy Barlow.

At last I got loose, and I walked on my way;
A constable came up, and to me did say,
"Are you free"? Says I, "Yes, to be sure; don't you know?"
And I handed my card, "Mr. William Barlow."
Oh, dear, lackaday, oh,
He said "That's all gammon," to Billy Barlow.

Then he put on the handcuffs, and brought me away
Right back down to Maitland, before Mr. Day.
When I said I was free, why the J. P. replied,
"I must send you down to be i--dentified."
Oh, dear, lackaday, oh,
So to Sidney once more went poor Billy Barlow.

They at last let me go, and I then did repair
For my station once more, and at length I got there;
But a few days before, the blacks, you must know,
Had spear'd all the cattle of Billy Barlow.
Oh, dear, lackaday, oh,
"It's a beautiful country," said Billy Barlow.

And for nine months before no rain there had been,
So the devil a blade of grass could be seen;
And one-third of my wethers the scab they had got,
And the other two-thirds had just died of the rot.
Oh, dear, lackaday, oh,
"I shall soon be a settler," said Billy Barlow.

And the matter to mend, now my bill was near due,
So I wrote to my friend, and just asked to renew;
He replied he was sorry he couldn't, because
The bill had passed into a usurer's claws.
Oh, dear, lackaday, Oh,
"But perhaps he'll renew it," said Billy Barlow."

For a month or six weeks I stewed over my loss,
And a tall man rode up one day on a black horse;
He asked, "Don't you know me?" I answered him "No."
"Why," said he, "my names Kinsmill; how are you, Barlow?"
Oh, dear, lackaday, oh,
He'd got a fi. fa. for poor Billy Barlow.

What I'd left of my sheep and my traps he did seize,
And he said, "They won't pay all the costs and my fees,"
Then he sold off the lot, and I'm sure 'twas a sin,
At sixpence a head, and the station given in.
Oh, dear, lackaday, oh,
"I'll go back to England," said Billy Barlow.

My sheep being sold, and my money all gone,
Oh, I wandered about then quite sad and forlorn;
How I managed to live it would shock you to know,
And as thin as a lath got poor Billy Barlow.
Oh, dear, lackaday, oh,
Quite down on his luck was poor Billy Barlow.

And in a few weeks more the sheriff, you see,
Sent the tall man on horseback once more unto me;
Having got all he could by the writ of fi. fa.,
By way of a change he'd brought up a ca. sa.
Oh, dear, lackaday, oh,
He seized on the body of Billy Barlow.

He took me to Sidney, and there they did lock
Poor unfortunate Billy fast "under the clock;"
And to get myself out I was forced, you must know
The schedule to file of poor Billy Barlow.
Oh, dear, lackaday, oh,
In the list of insolvents was Billy Barlow.

Then once more I got free, but in poverty's toil;
I've no "cattle for salting," no "sheep for to boil,"
I can't get a job-- though to any I'd stoop,
If it was only the making of portable soup.
Oh, dear, lackaday, oh.
Pray give some employment to Billy Barlow.

From "Old Bush Songs," ed. A. B. "Banjo" Paterson, 1905. On line, In Australia