Fraser Bruce 

BROKEN DOWN SQUATTER (Trad arr. F&I Bruce)

Oh come stumpy old man
We must shift while we can
All our mates in the paddock are dead
We must sing our farewells
To Glen Eva’s sweet dells
And the hills where your master was bred
Together to roam from our drought stricken home
Seems hard that such things have to be
But it’s hard on a horse
When he’s nought for a boss
But a broken down squatter like me

No more shall we muster
The river for strays
Or hunt on the fifteen mile plain
Or dash through the scrub
By the light of the moon
Or see the old homestead again
Leave the slip railings down they don’t matter much now
For there’s none but the crow left to see
Perching gaunt on the pine
As though longing to dine
On a broken down squatter like me

When the country was cursed
By the drought at its worst
And the cattle were dying in scores
Though down on me luck
I kept up my pluck
Thinking justice might soften the laws
But the farce had been played and the government aid
Ain’t extended to squatters old son
When the money was spent
They just doubled the rent
And resumed the best part of the run.

Chorus:

For the banks are all broken they say,

And the merchants are all up a tree
When the big-wigs are brought, To the bankruptcy court
What chance for a squatter like me