Lyrics The Man From Ironbark - Slim Dusty
It
was
the
man
from
Ironbark
who
struck
the
Sydney
town,
He
wandered
over
street
and
park,
he
wandered
up
and
down.
He
loitered
here
he
loitered
there,
till
he
was
like
to
drop,
Until
at
last
in
sheer
despair
he
sought
a
barber's
shop.
"Ere!
shave
my
beard
and
whiskers
off,
I'll
be
a
man
of
mark,
I'll
go
and
do
the
Sydney
toff
up
home
in
Ironbark."
The
barber
man
was
small
and
flash,
as
barbers
mostly
are,
He
wore
a
strike-your-fancy
sash
he
smoked
a
huge
cigar;
He
was
a
humorist
of
note
and
keen
at
repartee,
He
laid
the
odds
and
kept
a
"tote",
whatever
that
may
be,
And
when
he
saw
our
friend
arrive,
he
whispered,
"Here's
a
lark!
Just
watch
me
catch
him
all
alive,
this
man
from
Ironbark."
There
were
some
gilded
youths
that
sat
along
the
barber's
wall.
Their
eyes
were
dull,
their
heads
were
flat,
they
had
no
brains
at
all;
To
them
the
barber
passed
a
wink
his
dexter
eyelid
shut,
"I'll
make
this
bloomin'
yokel
think
his
bloomin'
throat
is
cut."
And
as
he
soaped
and
rubbed
it
in
he
made
a
rude
remark:
"I
s'pose
the
flats
is
pretty
green
up
there
in
Ironbark."
A
grunt
was
all
reply
he
got;
he
shaved
the
bushman's
chin,
Then
made
the
water
boiling
hot
and
dipped
the
razor
in.
He
raised
his
hand,
his
brow
was
black,
he
paused
awhile
to
gloat,
Then
slashed
the
red-hot
razor-back
across
his
victim's
throat;
Upon
the
newly-shaven
skin
it
made
a
livid
mark,
No
doubt
it
fairly
took
him
in,
the
man
from
Ironbark.
He
fetched
a
wild
up-country
yell
might
wake
the
dead
to
hear,
And
though
his
throat,
he
knew
full
well,
was
cut
from
ear
to
ear,
He
struggled
gamely
to
his
feet,
and
faced
the
murd'rous
foe:
"You've
done
for
me!
you
dog,
I'm
beat!
one
hit
before
I
go!
I
only
wish
I
had
a
knife,
you
blessed
murdering
shark!
But
you'll
remember
all
your
life
the
man
from
Ironbark."
He
lifted
up
his
hairy
paw,
with
one
tremendous
clout
He
landed
on
the
barber's
jaw,
and
knocked
the
barber
out.
He
set
to
work
with
tooth
and
nail,
he
made
the
place
a
wreck;
He
grabbed
the
nearest
gilded
youth,
and
tried
to
break
his
neck.
And
all
the
while
his
throat
he
held
to
save
his
vital
spark,
And
"Murder!
Bloody
murder!"
yelled
the
man
from
Ironbark.
A
peeler
man
who
heard
the
din
came
in
to
see
the
show;
He
tried
to
run
the
bushman
in,
but
he
refused
to
go.
And
when
at
last
the
barber
spoke,
and
said
"'Twas
all
in
fun'
Twas
just
a
little
harmless
joke,
a
trifle
overdone."
"A
joke!"
he
said,
"By
hell,
that's
fine;
a
lively
sort
of
lark;
I'd
like
to
catch
that
murdering
swine
some
night
in
Ironbark."
And
now
while
round
the
shearing
floor
the
list'ning
shearers
gape,
He
tells
the
story
o'er
and
o'er,
and
brags
of
his
escape.
"Them
barber
chaps
what
keeps
a
tote,
by
hell,
I've
had
enough,
One
tried
to
cut
my
bloomin'
throat,
but
thank
the
Lord
it's
tough."
And
whether
he's
believed
or
no,
there's
one
thing
to
remark,
That
flowing
beards
are
all
the
go
back
home
in
Ironbark.
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