Out on the board the old shearer stands,
Grasping his shears in his long bony hands,
Fixed is his gaze on a bare-bellied ‘joe’,
Glory if he gets her won’t he make the ringer go,
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 blue-bellied ‘joe’.