Beyond His Jurisdiction

It was a Western manager, and a language-man was he, Thus spoke he to the shed-boss: "Send 'The Rager' round to me; I’ll hie me to the office where I’ll write his crimson cheque, Bid him roll his dusty swag up, or I’ll break his no-good neck."

So when the bell was ringing—when "smoke-oh!" time was o'er, Says the shed-boss, "Mick, your services are wanted here no more." Then "The Rager" hung his shears up, stepped from the shearing floor, And went a-swapping swear words 'round at the office-door.

For the boss began to language, and "The Rager" languaged back; Says "The Rager" — "There’s my brother, can’t you give him, too, the sack?" "Your brother? D––n your brother! Yes, send him 'round here, quick!" – "That narks yez," Michael answered – "he’s a cocky down in Vic."