I'm a stockman to my trade, and they call me ugly Dave,
I'm old and grey and only got one eye;
In a yard I'm good, of course, but just put me on a horse,
And I'll go where lots of young uns daren't try.
I lead 'em through the gidgee over country rough and ridgy,
I lose 'em in the very worst of scrub;
I can ride both rough and easy, with a dewdrop I'm a daisy,
And a right-down bobby-dazzler in a pub.
Just watch me use a whip, I can give the dawdlers gyp,
I can make the bloody echoes roar and ring;
With a branding iron, well, I'm a perfect flaming swell,
In fact, I'm duke of every blasted thing.
To watch me skin a sheep, it's so lovely you could weep,
I can act the silvertail as if my blood was blue;
You can strike me pink or dead, if I stood upon my head,
I'd be just as good as any other two.
I've a notion in my pate, that it's luck, it isn't fate,
That I'm so far above the common run;
So in every thing I do, you could cut me fair in two,
For I'm much too bloody good to be in one.