A Cautionary Tale Of False Mateship

Adopting a wry, cautionary voice, Paterson satirizes vagrants who habitually exploit the goodwill and charity of workers under the guise of hardship.

He depicts loafers as shameless scroungers with an array of manipulative tactics to cadge food, money and alcohol from their marks. Vivid vignettes poke fun at their brazen scheming and preying on sympathies.

References to pursuing victims relentlessly and boasting of acquaintances convey ruthless persistence. Paterson implies loafers feel entitled to others’ earnings and justify parasitism through a false sense of mateship.

While exaggerated for comic effect, the poem provides insightful social commentary on endemic duplicity enabled by blind compassion. Paterson suggests such willful parasitism spreads when left unchecked by society.

So “The Loafers’ Club” employs satire and irony to spotlight a problematic national trait – reflexive generosity enabling professional sponging. His humorous cautionary tale implies accountability and discernment are needed.

THE LOAFERS’ CLUB

A club there is established here, whose name they say is
Legion
From Melbourne to the Billabong, they’re known in every
region.
They do not like the cockatoos, but mostly stick to stations,
Where they keep themselves from starving by cadging
shepherds’ rations.

The rules and regulations, they’re not difficult of learning,
They are to live upon the cash which others have been
earning.
To never let a chance go by of being in a shout, sir,
And if they see a slant to turn your pockets inside out, sir.

They’ll cadge your baccy, knife, and pipe, and tell a tale of
sorrow
Of how they cannot get a job, but mean to start to-morrow.
But that to-morrow never comes, until they see quite plainly
That it’s completely up the spout with Messrs. Scrase and
Ainley.

If, feeling thirsty, you should go to take a little suction,
I’ll swear they’ll not be long before they’ll force an
introduction.
One knew you here, one knew you there, all love you like a
brother,
And if one plan will not succeed, they’ll quickly try another.

I knew one poor, unhappy wight, having a little ready,
Entered a Smeaton public-house, determined to keep steady.
A celebrated loafer there determined upon showing him
That he once had the pleasure and the privilege of knowing
him.

Through hills and dales, by lakes and streams, he close
pursued his victim,
Until the miserable man confessed that be quite licked him.
In vain the quarry tried to turn, pursuit was far too strong,
sir,
The loafer followed up the scent and earthed him in Geelong,
sir.

The noble art of lambing down they know in all its beauty,
And if they do not squeeze you dry, they’ll think they’ve
failed in duty.
But, truth to say, they seldom fail to do that duty neatly,
And very few escape their hands who’re not cleared out
completely.