Hello, on top! Hello!
Ease off, and have a blow!
We’ve a crushin’ in the paddock, and there’s more below!
Then you don’t dine any more on sodden flapjacks in the pan;
And you don’t back under cover when you see a bit of skirt;
For there’s something in the atmosphere that bulges out a man
When he’s drivin’ on the gutter, and there’s pay-gold in the dirt—
Hello, on top! Hello!
Jest rosin up your bow!
For we’ve got no time for sleepin’ when there’s corn to hoe!