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. 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.