They reckon we're on a good wicket, 
They reckon we're makin' a pile
They think that we're making a fortune 
and leading an easy lifestyle
They tell us that we're in the big time, 
Those big gun pen pushers from town
Oh they reckon we're nothing but whingers old mate, 
They're experts at running us down

And they say that we're paid too much money, 
For shearing those cute little lambs
With wool oh so clean white and fluffy, 
Get off him you brute of a man
They say if we don't act more kindly, 
They'll give the RSPCA a call
Well they've apparently never had a horn 
Through the ribs or kicked up the Niagara falls

If they only knew half of the story, 
The burrs and the lice and the flies
The bog eye is burnin', your guts tight and churnin' 
And your blinded by the sweat in your eyes
And you back feels like over twitched wire 
One more bend and you're sure it'll snap
But you just keep on goin' while the overdrafts owin' 
And the bank managers' right on your back

You might ask me then why do I do it, 
This job I'm caught moanin' about
Well as a young reckless fool I wouldn't stay at school 
Lobbed a job as a shed roustabout
Then travellin' the outback I liked it, 
To be payin' my own way though life
Now my young years have fled and I find myself wed 
Supporting a family and wife
Yeah I reckon I'm hobbled for life

So I ask myself is it all worth it 
And I look down at my freckle face son
And I know I'll keep shearing though exhaustion is 
nearing
Through the heat and those long summer runs

They reckon we're on a good wicket, 
They reckon we're makin' a pile
They think that we're making a fortune and leading an 
easy lifestyle
They tell us that we're in the big time, 
Those big gun pen pushers from town
Oh they reckon we're nothing but whingers old mate, 
They're experts at running us down

They reckon we're on a good wicket, 
They reckon we're makin' a pile
They think that we're making a fortune 
[Fade Out]