I owned points in a billabong once. Shaded by coulibah trees. Jolly jumbuck grazing peacefully nearby.
It was aiight.
One day I rode down on my thoroughbred. Three troopers in my wake. Count 'em. One. Two. Three.
We asked a jolly swagman where our jumbuck in his tuckerbag was. We were only saying G'day with some small talk.
But this swagman had a death wish. Screaming about us catching him alive, he noosed himself in that billabong.
If you walk past the billabong today, it seems normal as can be.
But ride past it? His ghost may be heard still, all eeire and glee.
I took 3c on the pound for my share - off some Yanks who didn't see me coming.
Yung, dum and full of cum those two.
Who'll come a waltzing matilda with me?
I SAY, WHO'LL COME A'WALTZING MATILDA WITH ME!!!?