The Poetry Corner

Mustering Song

By Banjo Paterson (Andrew Barton)

(Air: So Early in the Morning.) The boss last night in the hut did say We start to muster at break of day; So be up first thing, and dont be slow; Saddle your horses and off you go. Chorus So early in the morning, so early in the morning, So early in the morning, before the break of day. Such a night in the yard there never was seen (The horses were fat and the grass was green); Bursting of girths and slipping of packs As the stockmen saddled the fastest hacks. Chorus: So early in the morning, &c. Across the plain we jog along Over gully, swamp, and billabong; We drop on a mob pretty lively, too We round em up and give em a slue. Chorus: So early in the morning, &c. Now the scrub grows thick and the cattle are wild, A regular caution to this ere child A new chum man on an old chum horse, Who sails through the scrub as a matter of course. Chorus: So early in the morning, &c. I was close up stuck in a rotten bog; I got a buster jumping a log; I found this scouting rather hot, So I joined the niggers with the lot wed got. Chorus: So early in the morning, &c. A long-haired shepherd we chanced to meet With a water bag, billy, and dog complete; He came too close to a knocked up steer, Who up a sapling made him clear. Chorus: So early in the morning, &c. Now on every side we faintly hear The crack of the stockwhip drawing near; To the camp the cattle soon converge, As from the thick scrub they emerge. Chorus: So early in the morning, &c. We hastily comfort the inner man With the warm contents of the billy can; The beef and damper are passed about Before we tackle the cutting out. Chorus: So early in the morning, &c. Were at it nowthat bally calf Would surely make a sick man laugh; The silly fool cant take a joke; I hope some day in the drought hell croak. Chorus: So early in the morning, &c. Weve em nowthe cows and calves (Things here are never done by halves); Strangers, workers, and milkers, too, Of scrubbers also not a few. Chorus: So early in the morning, &c. Its getting late, wed better push; Tis a good long way across the bush, And the mob to drive are middling hard; I do not think well reach the yard. Chorus: So early in the morning, &c.