The Old Shearer Joe

In his prime of life some four decades ago
No better shearer in these parts than Joe
He shore thousands of sheep and he drunk barrels of beer
Thirsty work shearing or so 'twould appear.

Twenty five years ago his wife she left him with their six years old son
What was best for her and the boy she had done
Though he never threatened or hit them he wasn't that bad
Joe never was a good husband or dad.

When he was shearing he was never short of a friend
In the pub on himself and others his money he did spend
Money he had earned in the hard way
The friends he had then where are they today?

With a damaged liver from far too much grog
His only friend now is Sam his old dog
Sam the brown kelpie his muzzle is gray
On him and his master time ticking away.

In his early seventies frail looking and gray
In his working years he worked hard for his pay
He worked hard and he drank hard in days long gone by
That sort of life style he seemed to enjoy.

He lives on a pension his better years gone
And the clock on his life it keeps ticking on
Once strong, fit and lively now his fastest pace slow
And time is running out on the old shearer Joe.