The Stockyard Liar

If ever you're handling a rough one,
 * There's bound to be perched on the rails

Of the stockyard some grizzled old tough one,
 * Whose flow of advice never fails.

There are plenty, of course, who aspire
 * To make plain you're only a dunce;

But the most insupportable liar
 * Is the man who has "ridden 'em once."

He will tell you a tale and a rum one,
 * With never a smile on his face,

How he broke for old Somebody Someone,
 * At some unapproachable place;

How they bucked and snorted and squealed.
 * How he spurred 'em and flogged 'em and how

He would gallop 'em round till they reeled,
 * But he's "getting too old for it now."

Let them spell from Free Trade and Protection
 * And give Federation a rest,

For the matter that wants their inspection
 * Is waiting out here in the West:

And the law that the country requires
 * At the hands of her Statesmen of sense

Is a law to abolish the liars
 * That can sit a roughbuck—"on the fence."