Humping Old Bluey

Humping old bluey; it is a stale game
And that I can plainly see
You're battling with poverty, hunger, sharp thorn
Things are just going middling with me

Now shearing's all over, and I'm such a swell ...
I'm riding a very fine hack
If my friends were to see me - I'm not humping bluey
I'm pushing a bit further back

Humping your drum, and that after rum -
Wasting your young life away;
You're battling with poverty, hunger, sharp thorn
Things are just going middling, I say