It's empty now, but years ago
It used to be a pub;
'Twas built by Hicks in '76,
On the edge of Wild Dog Scrub.
Built of slab, an' ir'n an' dab --
It's done it's bit o' trade,
An' many a bloke it's rooned an' broke,
An' one or two it's made.
Hicks sold out to Tate, fur 'bout
A thousan', so they say;
But 'Arry Tate was far too straight
To make the shanty pay.
Refused ye drink if 'e should think
Ye'd 'ad enough already;
Tried to arrange a sort o' change,
An' keep the fellers steady.
An' as I say, it didn't pay,
'Arry 'ad to hook it;
'Ad to go in a year or so,
Then Paddy Casey took it.
Strike me dumb! 'E made things 'um --
Casey was a daisy!
Tanglefoot an' doctored rum
Drove the fellers crazy.
Casey 'd snap our 'ard-earned cheques,
Pour the liquor down us;
Make us broken, tremblin' wrecks,
Then 'e wouldn't own us.
Made 'is pile? Well I should smile!
Livin' down below;
Does the grand with four in 'and --
Quite a toff you know.
Well, when Casey left the place
Things wus gettin' slack;
Teams wus gittin' rather scarce
Comin' down the track.
Times, you see, thet used to be
Wus gawn, an' biz was slow;
So the bloke thet took it broke --
Smashed, an' 'ad to go.
Now it's empty, an' its days is
Over - never fear;
Many men it's sent to blazis
In it's short career.
First published in The Critic, 19 March 1898
Author reference sites: C.J. Dennis, Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography, Australian Poetry Library
See also.
