These lyrics are from the sheet music at The National Library of Australia. Only a few words are different from the version posted above, but note that the songwriting credit is different. Also, I have formatted the lines to emphasize the rhyme, and I have indicated the comical pronunciation of carrots and sausagees.


THE REST OF THE DAY'S YOUR OWN.
Words and music by Worton David and J. P. Long.
Sydney: J. Albert & Son, c1915.

1. One day when I was out of work, a job I went to seek,
To be a farmer's boy.
At last I found an easy job at a half-a-crown a week,
To be a farmer's boy.
The farmer said, "I think I've got the very job for you.
Your duties will be light for this is all you've got to do:
Rise at three every morn,
Milk the cow with the crumpled horn,
Feed the pigs, clean the sty,
Teach the pigeons the way to fly,
Plough the fields, mow the hay,
Help the cocks and the hens to lay,
Sow the seed, tend the crops,
Chase the flies from the turnip-tops,
Clean the knives, black the shoes,
Scrub the kitchen and sweep the flues,
Help the wife, empty the pots,
Grow the cabbages and carrots,
Make the beds, dust the coals,
Tune the gramophone,
And then if there's no more work to do,
The rest of the day's your own."

2. So I scratched my head and thought it would be absolutely prime,
To be a farmer's boy.
The farmer said, "Of course you'll have to do some overtime
When you're a farmer's boy."
Said he, "The duties that I've given you, you'll be quickly through,
So I've been thinking of a few more things that you can do:
Skim the milk, make the cheese,
Chop the meat for the sausagees,
Bath the kids, mend their clothes,
Use your dial to scare the crows,
In the milk put the chalk,
Shave the knobs off the pickled pork,
Shoe the horse, rake the coal,
Take the cat for his midnight stroll,
Cook the food, scrub the stairs,
Teach the parrot to say his prayers,
Roast the joint, bake the bread,
Shake the feathers up in the bed,
When the wife's got the gout,
Rub her funny-bone,
And then if there's no more work to do,
The rest of the day's your own."

3. I thought it was a shame to take the money, you can bet,
To be a farmer's boy,
And so I wrote my duties down in case I should forget
I was a farmer's boy.
It took all night to write 'em down. I didn't go to bed,
But somehow I got all mixed up for this is how they read:
"Rise at three every morn,
Milk the hen with the crumpled horn,
Scrub the wife every day,
Teach the nanny-goat how to lay,
Shave the cat, tune the cheese,
Fit the tights on the sausagees,
Bath the pigs, break the pots,
Boil the kids with a few carrots,
Roast the horse, dust the bread,
Put the cocks and the hens to bed,
Boots and shoes black with chalk,
Shave the hair on the pickled pork."
All the rest I forgot.
Somehow it has flown,
But I got the sack this morning,
So the rest of my life's my own.