The Swagman by Banjo Paterson

Adopting the voice of a drifter, Paterson humorously chronicles the mishaps and trickery of a down-on-his-luck rural rover surviving on cunning and opportunism.

Through the swagman’s woeful tales, Paterson satirizes itinerant life on the margins. Inept attempts at shearing and farm labor give way to loafing and petty theft just to eat. His refrain “don’t you pity me” comically undercuts the pretense of hardship.

The antihero’s flexible ethics emerge in vignettes like stealing food after asking for work. By portraying police suspicion, Paterson acknowledges the criminality commonly associated with swagmen.

While exaggerating for effect, the ballad provides insight into the adversity and moral compromises of down-and-out wanderers in Australia’s pastoral economy. Their guile shielded against vulnerability.

So “The Swagman” combines amusement with nuance in depicting the outback’s dispossessed. Paterson’s empathetic humor adds humanity to a maligned figure in the nation’s folklore.

THE SWAGMAN

Kind friends, pray give attention
To this, my little song.
Some rum things I will mention,
And I’ll not detain you long.
Up and down this country
I travel, don’t you see,
I’m a swagman on the wallaby,
Oh! don’t you pity me.
I’m a swagman on the wallaby,
Oh! don’t you pity me.

At first I started shearing,
And I bought a pair of shears.
On my first sheep appearing,
Why, I cut off both its ears.
Then I nearly skinned the brute,
As clean as clean could he.
So I was kicked out of the shed,
Oh! don’t you pity me, &c.

I started station loafing,
Short stages and took my ease;
So all day long till sundown
I’d camp beneath the trees.
Then I’d walk up to the station,
The manager to see.
“Boss, I’m hard up and I want a job,
Oh! don’t you pity me,” &c.

Says the overseer: “Go to the hut.
In the morning I’ll tell you
If I’ve any work about
I can find for you to do.”
But at breakfast I cuts off enough
For dinner, don’t you see.
And then my name is Walker.
Oh! don’t you pity me.
I’m a swagman, &c.

And now, my friends, I’ll say good-bye,
For I must go and camp.
For if the Sergeant sees me
He may take me for a tramp;
But if there’s any covey here
What’s got a cheque, d’ye see,
I’ll stop and help him smash it.
Oh! don’t you pity me.
I’m a swagman on the wallaby,
Oh! don’t you pity me.

“A Swagman on the Wallaby.”–A nomad following
track of the wallaby, i.e., loafing aimlessly.