The Fact of the Matter - Edward Dyson

THE FACT OF THE MATTER
BY EDWARD DYSON, 30 JULY 1892

I'M WONDERIN' WHY THOSE, FELLERS WHO GO BUILDIN' , CHIPPER, DITTIES
'BOUT THE ROSY TIMES OUT DROVIN', AN' THE DUST AN' DEATH OF CITIES
DON'T SLING THE BLOOMIN' OFFICE, STRIKE SOME DROVER FOR A BILLET
AND SOAK UP ALL THE GLORY THAT COMES HANDY WHILE THEY FILL IT.

PRAPS IT'S FUN TO TRAVEL CATTLE OR, TO PICNIC, WITH MER, INOS,
BUT THE DROVER DON'T CATCH ON SIR, NOT MUCH HIGHCLASS RAPTURE HE KNOWS
AS FOR SLEEPIN' ON THE, PLAINS THERE IN THE, SHADDER, OF THE, SPEAR-GRASS
THAT'S LIKED BEST BY THE JUGGINS, WITH A SPRING-BED AND A, PIER-GLASS

AN THE CAMP FIRE AN THE, FREEDOM AND THE, BLANKY, CONSTE, LLATIONS
THE POSSUM-RUG AN BILLY AN THE, TOGS AN STALE OLE, RATIONS
ITS STRANGE THEY'RE ONLY, RAVED ABOUT BY, COVES THAT, DRESS UP, PRETTY
AN SPORT A WIFE AN LIVE ON, SLAP-UP TUCKER IN THE, CITY

I'VE TICKLED BEEF IN MY TIME, CLEAR FROM CLARKE TO RIVERINA
AN' SHIFTED SHEEP ALL ROUND THE SHOP, BUT BLOW ME IF I'VE SEEN A
SINGLE BLANKY HAND WHO DIDN'T BUCK, AT PLEASURES OF HIS KIDNEY
AND WOULDN'T TRADE HIS BLISSES FOR, A FLUTTER DOWN IN SYDNEY

NIGHT-WATCHES ARE, DELIGHTFUL, WHEN THE, STARS ARE, SPLENDID
TO THE CHAP, WHO'S FRESH UPON THE JOB, BUT YOU BET HIS RAPTURE'S ENDED
WHEN THE RAIN COMES DOWN IN, SLUICE-HEADS OR THE, CUTTIN HAILSTONES PELTER
AN' THE SHEEP DRIFT OFF BEFORE THE WIND, AN' THE HORSES STRIKE FOR SHELTER

DON'T TAKE ME FOR A HOWLER, BUT I FIND IT COME ANNOYIN'
TO HEAR THESE FELLERS RAVE ABOUT, THE PLEASURES WE'RE ENJOYIN'
WHEN P'R'APS WE'VE NOTHIN' BETTER, THAN SOME FLUKY WATER HANDY,
AN' THEY'RE RIGHT ON ALL THE LICKERS, RUM AN' PLENTY BEER AN' BRANDY

THE TOWN IS DUSTY, MAY BE BUT IT, ISN'T, WORTH THE, CURSES
"SIDE THE DUST A FELLER SWOLLOWS, AN' THE BLINDED THIRST HE NURSES
WHEN HE'S ON THE HARD, MACADAM WHERE, JUMBUCKS CANNOT, BROWSE AN'
THE WIND IS IN HIS WHISKERS, AN' HE FOLLERS TWENTY, THOUSAN'

THIS DROVIN' ON THE, PLAIN TOO IT'S ALL, OK , WHEN THE, WEATHER
ISN'T HOT ENOUGH TO CURL THE SOLES, RIGHT OFF YOUR UPPER, LEATHER
OR SO COLD THAT WHEN, THE MORNIN WIND COMES, HISSIN, THROUGH THE, GRASSES
YOU CAN FEEL IT CUT YOUR EYELIDS, LIKE A WHIP-LASH AS IT PASSES

THEN THERE'S BULL-ANTS IN THE BLANKETS, AN' A LAME HORSE AN' MUSKEETERS
AN' A D.T. BOSS LIKE HALLIGAN, OR ONE LIKE HUMPY PETERS
WHO IS MEAN ABOUT THE TUCKER, AN' CAN CURSE FROM START TO SUNDOWN
AN' CAN FIGHT LIKE FIFTY DEVILS, AN' WHOSE GROWLER'S NEVER RUN DOWN

YES I WONDER WHY THE, FELLERS WHAT GO, BUILDIN, CHIPPER, DITTIES
'BOUT THE ROSY TIMES OUT DROVIN, AN' TH' DUST AN' DEATH OF, CITIES,
DON'T SLING THE BLOOMIN', OFFICE STRIKE OLE, PETERS, FOR A, BILLET,
AN' SOAK UP ALL THE GLORY, THAT COMES HANDY WHILE THEY FILL IT