The Poetry Corner

Its Only A Way Hes Got

By Banjo Paterson (Andrew Barton)

(As sung by the camp fire.) No doubt the sayings all abroad, And rattling through the land. We hear it at the mangle, too, With What are you going to stand? Im sure I dont know which to choose, Theres really such a lot But I hope my song youll not refuse, For its only a way Ive got. Chorus: Tol, lol, litter, tol, lol. Tol, lol, the rol, lay. In Sydney town a gal I met, Her dress was rather gay, I think the place, it was Pitt Street, Or somewhere near that way. Says she, The night is very cold, Pray, stand a drop of Hot. I hope my freedom youll excuse, For its only a way Ive got. Chorus: Tol, lol, &c. The drink we soon put out of sight, And off for home did walk, When a fellow came up and quite polite To her began to talk. He drew my ticker from my fob, And bolted like a shot. Says she, Oh, take no notice, Bob, Its only a way hes got. Chorus: Tol, lol, &c. Says I, Ill soon catch you, my chap, And arter him I flies, When another stepped up and knocked my hat Completely oer my eyes. He from my pocket drew my purse, And off with it did trot; Says she, Its well it is no worse, But its only a way hes got. Chorus: Tol, lol, &c. A little further on we went. I had got rather shy. Then a butcher ran his tray Right bang into my eye. The fellow said it was my fault, Called me a drunken sot. Then, like a thief, he slunk away, Twas only a way hed got! Chorus: Tol, lol, &c. Now, as we walked along the street, A lot of chaps we met. I saw they on a game were bent; Says they, How fat you get! I got from them some ugly pokes, They made me a regular Scot. They said, Oh, never mind our jokes, Its only a way weve got! Chorus: Tol, lol, &c. I have grown tired of Sydney town Since Ive lost all my cash, And so will up the country go, And tell them of my smash. Oh, then well have such lots of fun, Ill court Miss Polly Scott; And if she asks me what I mean Ill tell her its a way Ive got. Chorus: Tol, lol, &c.