Rolf Harris Click Go The Shears
Chorus:
Click go the shears boys, click, click, click,
Wide is his blow and his hands move quick,
The ringer looks around and is beaten by a blow,
And curses the old snagger with the bare-bellied joe.
Out on the board the old shearer stands,
Grasping his shears in his thin bony hands;
Fixed is his eye on a bare-bellied joe
Glory if he gets her, won't he make the ringer go.
Chorus:
Click go the shears boys, click, click, click,
Wide is his blow and his hands move quick,
The ringer looks around and is beaten by a blow,
And curses the old snagger with the bare-bellied joe.
In the middle of the floor in his cane-bottomed chair
Sits the boss of the board with his eyes everywhere,
Notes well each fleece as it comes to the screen,
Paying strict attention that it's taken off clean.
Chorus:
Click go the shears boys, click, click, click,
Wide is his blow and his hands move quick,
The ringer looks around and is beaten by a blow,
And curses the old snagger with the bare-bellied joe.
The tar-boy is there waiting in demand
With his blackened tar-pot, in his tarry hand,
Spies one old sheep with a cut upon its back,
Hears what he's waiting for it's "Tar here, Jack!"
Chorus:
Click go the shears boys, click, click, click,
Wide is his blow and his hands move quick,
The ringer looks around and is beaten by a blow,
And curses the old snagger with the bare-bellied joe.
The colonial experience man, he is there of course,
With his shiny leggin's on, just got off his horse,
Gazes all around him like a real connoisseur,
Scented soap, and brilliantine and smelling like a
whore.
Chorus:
Click go the shears boys, click, click, click,
Wide is his blow and his hands move quick,
The ringer looks around and is beaten by a blow,
And curses the old snagger with the bare-bellied joe.
Now the shearing is all over, we've all got our cheques
So roll up your swags and it's off down the track.
The first pub we come to it's there we'll have a spree,
And everyone that comes along it's "Have a drink with
me."
Chorus:
Click go the shears boys, click, click, click,
Wide is his blow and his hands move quick,
The ringer looks around and is beaten by a blow,
And curses the old snagger with the bare-bellied joe.
There we leave him standing shouting for all hands,
Whilst all around him every "shouter" stands,
His eye is on the keg which now is lowering fast,
He works hard, he drinks hard, and goes to hell at
last!
