Speakers at a recent meeting of farmers at Ouyen declared that certain Goverment Departments value a farmer at less than his horses. Money was advanced readily to repair machinery or doctor horses, but medical expenses for the farmer were refused.
"The backbone of the country and the salt of all the earth" -- That was how they styled us when the farmer had his worth. But what's his valuation now, when times are pretty thin? Chorus: Two bob a dozen, an' the garments given in. Solo: We made the country's money an' we paid the country's way, We raised the wealth for cities from the farm thro' many a day; But what's the price of farmers now the profits disappeared? Chorus: Two bob a dozen, an' a bonus on the beard. Solo: They'll pay to patch machinery or cure old Dobbin's sprain; But they cannot spare a stiver when the farmer gets a pain; For what's the use o' mendin' him when all he's valued at -- Chorus: Is two bob a dozen, if he's nice an' prime an' fat. Solo: But the farmer ain't repinin', tho' his price is down an' out. There's a good time comin' soon without the smallest doubt; But, till the world wins sanity, he's got to be content -- Chorus: With two bob a dozen, cash with order ten per cent.
|Copyright © Perry Middlemiss 2005|