KIND friends, pray give attention
    To this, my little song.
Some rum things I will mention,
    And I’ll not detain you long.
Up and down this country
    I travel, don’t you see,
I’m a swagman on the wallaby,
    Oh! don’t you pity me.
I’m a swagman on the wallaby,
    Oh! don’t you pity me.

At first I started shearing,
    And I bought a pair of shears.
On my first sheep appearing,
    Why, I cut off both its ears.
Then I nearly skinned the brute,
    As clean as clean could he.
So I was kicked out of the shed,
    Oh! don’t you pity me, &c.

I started station loafing,
    Short stages and took my ease;
So all day long till sundown
    I’d camp beneath the trees.
Then I’d walk up to the station,
    The manager to see.
“Boss, I’m hard up and I want a job,
    Oh! don’t you pity me,” &c.

Says the overseer: “Go to the hut.
    In the morning I’ll tell you
If I’ve any work about
    I can find for you to do.”
But at breakfast I cuts off enough
    For dinner, don’t you see.
And then my name is Walker.
    Oh! don’t you pity me.
I’m a swagman, &c.

And now, my friends, I’ll say good-bye,
    For I must go and camp.
For if the Sergeant sees me
    He may take me for a tramp;
But if there’s any covey here
    What’s got a cheque, d’ye see,
I’ll stop and help him smash it.
    Oh! don’t you pity me.
I’m a swagman on the wallaby,
    Oh! don’t you pity me.