Lyrics
Tall and freckled and sandy,
Face of a country lout;
This was the picture of Andy,
Middleton's Rouseabout.
Type of a coming nation,
In the land of cattle and sheep,
He worked on Middleton's station,
For a pound a week and his keep.
On Middleton's wide dominions
Plied the stockwhip and shears;
Had he er hadn't any opinions,
Had he hadn't any ideas'.
Swiftly the years went over,
And liquor and drought prevailed;
And Middleton, he went as a drover, you know,
After his station had failed.
Instrumental
(whoa whoa whoa)
Type of a careless nation,
Men who are soon played out,
Middleton was: and so his station
Bought by the Rouseabout.
Now flourishing beard and sandy,
he's tall, he's robust and stout;
Yes this is the picture of Andy, you know,
Middleton's Rouseabout.
And now on his own dominions
He works with his overseers;
And he still hasn't any opinions,
He hasn't any ideas.