After the Crushing’s Over
by W Gregory.
Our beers cut down, and our creditors frown,
And it’s hard to raise a pot,
But we’ve worked down hard on me and my pard,
And found troubles quite a lot
But they’ll soon be o’er, and we’ll pay our score
And find ourselves in clover,
Get off the dole, with a big fat roll
after the crushing’s over.
We’ve been sitting tight for we’ve felt the bite.
Of the big bad wolf at the door,
We’re full of the brew tin dog Stew
And we don’t want anymore.
So hey, for the time thanks to plates and slime,
When we cease ploy the rover,
The fun will be furious, the tucker luxurious
after the crushing’s over.
We’ll get our advance and we’ll buy new pants
For our strides are badly worn,
Our boots have gone with no socks on
And our coats are tattered and torn,
But we’ll turn right face, to the old home place,
Leave the miner and the drover,
Don brand new suits and Sunday boots
after the crushing’s over.
Well, the crushings o’er and we’ve paid our score
And we’ve sampled some booze as well.
Our money is spent and we’re back in the tent
With heads that ache like hell.
So it’s not for us, the overland bus,
Nor the gleaming cliffs of Dover,
But what hurts the worst is the raging thirst
after the crushing’s over.
Moya Sharp
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Can you please give details of the painting accompanying, the poem, After the Crushings Over?