Original subtitles

Can't bugger me.

J the Sundays of my life &

j are all the life I own j

j when Monday is too close for me j

j to care j

j another view is green j

j and another road was longer j

j and friends always waiting &

j somewhere j

j the roads I didn't take j

j' I bid them all so long &

j while Sunday warms my blood &

j and cools my mind &

j and the dreams I thought were true j

j are now mud beneath my footprints j

j ten thousand ages j

j behind j

J but the nights can get you down j

j and things won't stay forgotten j

j with Sunday j

j too far away j

Well.

Good day, Ivy.

You're on holiday, I suppose.

On my way to the shed.

You were never ever coming back.

Look at him.

When I was a learner, old garth was top dog.

He was a bloody shearer.

Someone should shoot the old bastard.

Someone should shoot the lot of you.

I'll drink to that.

How's Brisbane?

All right.

Just all right?

Good.

What'd you do up there?

Buy it up.

Gotta mind the ladies.

Afternoon.

I'm looking for Mr. king.

Mr. king?

Yeah.

I'm Michael Simpson.

Yeah?

The roustabout, I wrote to you.

Yeah?

Yes, Harvey.

Jesus.

Look, I'll be right over, all right?

Vy?

Put lager up on him if you have to.

I've come back but I'm not gonna bust my gut.

I'm gonna shear nice and steady.

150 a day.

Ease up on my grog.

Put a little bit away.

Put a lot away.

I reckon in four years I can have enough,

go down the coast, buy myself a pony there.

What do you think of that?

Very commendable.

Do you believe me?

Yeah.

Foley?

Didn't Johnny Russell ring aeromech downs in 51?

Was I there?

Johnny says you were.

If I was there, nobody beat me.

You mean you rung every shed you worked at in 51?

That's right.

Every shed in the last 10 years.

Now that's stretching it a bit far.

I don't remember meeting you.

My name's Frankie Davis.

Well, frank,

I don't recall that particular shed.

Who said I was there?

Johnny Russell.

I was drinking with him last week.

You know him?

Well he says you were there and he beat you.

Only by a whisker.

Well, fancy that.

Now here's a man who doesn't remember being at a shed

but he remembers ringing it.

Not bad, aye?

If I was there, I rung it.

Oh shit.

I was at aeromech downs in 51.

So was foley.

Yeah, so was Johnny Russell.

Who are you?

Frankie Davis from aeromech.

I just trucked some stuck over.

Who do your reckon rung that shed?

Foley, of course.

You're foley's mate.

Yeah, that's right.

You say you trucked some stuck over.

Is it your own truck?

Yeah, why?

Ivy?

You can make yourself some money here, frank.

Look, here's 200 quid.

I'll pay for the call.

Ivy, you can call the cocky at aeromech.

Ask him to look up his books for 1951.

We want to know who rung the shed.

Was it foley or Johnny Russell?

Right.

If you can't match that, frank,

just drop your truck keys down.

Are you sure I was there?

Certainly.

80 quid.

I'll have a hundred on it myself too.

Easy money.

Keys.

Johnny could've been spinning me a tale, of course.

Either drop your truck keys or piss off back to aeromech.

Hey.

I'm no gun shearer

and I got a better tally than Johnny at aeromech downs.

The only fast thing about Johnny is his mouth.

Foley would have a sheep shorn

before Johnny could remove the fuzz from his own asshole.

Good to see you.

Stupid prick.

It's not funny.

I know it's not funny, mate.

Now I am really sorry that I can't help you.

It's not your fault.

Why didn't you tell me you were coming back?

How the hell was I to know you're setting up

as a shearing contractor?

Not bloody psychic.

Cost us a fortune in grog saying goodbye to you.

What do you want, a refund?

How did Trevor Burke get on to you?

He wrote to me when I decided

to give the fish market the ass.

Trevor Burke?

Used to shear something terrible.

I wouldn't work for him.

You've shorn for him.

I wouldn't now.

I might as well cut me throat.

Hey, Luigi?

One sharp knife, mate.

I'll use it too.

Look, Tim,

when I've done the shed for Burke, I'll do one for you.

Fair enough?

You really think I'll still be in business?

Come Monday, I'll be a laughing stock.

You've only got yourself to blame, mate.

Christ, you get a contract to shed

and you haven't even got bloody shearers.

I was fussy, that's all.

I wanted the best.

Look, I know you can't break contracts,

I wouldn't ask you to.

You're right.

I can't break contracts, Tim.

Thanks, man.

Hey, look,

don't worry.

Good stuff.

Hey, foley!

What the bloody hell are you doing here?

Tommy west.

Where's your mad booming mate?

Thanks, love.

What about foley, then?

Yes.

He's not back shearing.

He'd be a weak bastard.

Poor old Tim.

Giving me the shits.

Poor bugger, you oughta feel sorry for him.

I've felt all the sorrow I'm gonna feel.

Now he's giving me the shits.

He's always wanted to be a shearing contractor.

He's been talking about it for years.

Yeah, well now he's giving me the shits.

Ease up.

Thanks, mate.

How long's your shear gonna last, mate?

Six or seven...

Seven days.

Seven days?

That's a short one.

That's right.

I had the idea it was gonna run for weeks.

Oh no.

What the hell are you worrying about?

Me and basher don't start for another 10 days,

we can help you out.

Of course, at the end,

you'll have to transport us across to our shed.

If it's too much trouble, I just thought I'd help you out.

Oh, no.

No trouble.

You can run them over, can't you, Tim?

Yeah, sure.

What about you, foley?

Why don't you help Tim out?

You don't start for another seven days.

Yeah, why not?

You're stuck.

You've got seven blokes, all you need is one more.

The gate.

Oh.

Come on.

Will I close it now, Mr. king?

Of course you'll bloody close it.

Would you mind telling me where I am?

You're on your way to a shed.

I see.

Why should I be on my way to a shed with you, Tim?

Don't you remember?

No.

Wake up, foley.

I'm awake.

Don't you remember last night,

begging Tim for a stay at this shed?

I do not.

Well, you did.

You got on your knees, near cried.

Didn't he, foley?

Tim, would you turn around and take me back?

As you know, I have a shed and I start tomorrow.

Well, I think you couldn't stay off the grog long enough

to get out of town.

What're you doing now?

Going back.

Where's your sense of humour.

You and basher were also black-birded.

It's a six week shed, not six days.

You rotten bastard.

Full bloody mad with the grog.

Can't break contracts like that.

Christ, no.

I was looking forward to seeing ugly too.

Was ugly gonna be there?

Oh, bloody hell.

You do have rum?

Ah, stuff it.

She's a bold terror of a day.

Yes.

Did they come up with regulations?

Hey!

Hey! Hey!

It's not bad.

Hey, Tim.

Better loosen that rum you got in there.

Yeah.

Mr. king?

Where will I sleep?

In your bed, last couple of rooms.

Hey, Tim?

What?

What're you doing?

Playing with your doodle in there?

Better get that bottle of rum out here.

Good quarters.

Terrific.

Cocky's a bit of a wowser, they tell me.

Is he?

Look,

I just wanna say something.

I'm pretty new at this contracting business.

Too bloody right you are.

Well, there's one thing I know.

A good recommendation is everything.

So we don't wanna do the wrong thing.

Like, for example, getting pissed

and took crook to start work tomorrow.

Right?

Right.

Now you're gonna find it tough enough

not having shore for five months.

You too, garth.

Right.

Important thing is we don't upset the cocky.

Hey, Tim.

Better winkle out another bottle, mate.

Might need it.

Ugly!

You piss-weak pop!

Hey!

Good day, Berry.

How are you, Berry?

Not bad.

What do you want?

Chocolate milkshake or vanilla?

Very funny.

Good to see you, garth.

Nice to see you too, ugly.

Better roll your shed.

Ah, Teddy Smith.

Average 278.

Bastard was trying.

You shoulda been there.

He's an impossible bugger, that Teddy.

First shed he's rung in his life

and now he's walking around like his shit don't stink.

How'd you go anyway?

Average 203.

Oh, come off it.

Bloody did and rough sheep they were too, I'm telling you.

It was New Zealand sheep, perhaps.

Don't you pick on me, garth.

You're a gentleman.

Not like this riff-raff, here.

Give us the last of that bottle.

Arthur black.

Foley, heard of him?

Garth,

ugly,

Tom west,

basher Grant.

Where's Berry?

Hey, Berry.

Yeah?

Arthur black from new south wales.

Good day.

Hello.

Bunk anywhere you can find space.

Black Arthur, more like it.

Next room.

What's your name, son?

Jim.

Jim the learner.

Hello.

And how old are you, James?

20.

How many sheep you've shorn?

Five thousand.

When you've shorn another five thousand,

you can call yourself a shearer.

That right?

That will be the cook.

Oh yeah.

Who is the poison?

Quinn.

Who?

Bloke named Quinn.

Look Tim,

we pay the cook.

We got a right to a good one.

Well, he's a good one.

Anybody hear of the poison of Quinn?

Hear all that silence, Tim?

Hey,

you remember that cook we had to get rid of

on that property in Jericho in 52?

He had one arm.

Oh, Christ, yeah.

Never heard of a one-armed cook.

He didn't last long.

We had to get rid of him.

Couldn't he cook?

Yeah, he was a good cook.

Wasn't he?

Meatballs, that was his specialty.

Rissoles.

Beautiful rissoles, the best I've ever tasted.

Until we caught him and we had to get rid of him.

Doing what?

He had all the stuff there, you know, the meat,

the onions,

and whatever other secret ingredient he had

because they were beautiful rissoles.

He'd pick up a lump of the stuff and he'd go.

He'd knock about one every two seconds.

It was a hotter day than today too.

We kept finding his hairs in the bloody rissoles.

We thought they were from his head.

That Quinn?

Yeah.

Big bastard, isn't he?

Good day.

How many bottle of lemon essence you order?

Half a dozen.

Well I ordered six bloody dozen.

You sure?

I got the list.

I haven't got it anyway.

Come on, meet the shearers.

If he can't cook,

he's gonna be a fair cow to get rid of.

Bloke's bound to get cranky,

travelling on a hot day like this.

Lemon essence man, is he?

What would he do with six dozen bottles

of essence of lemon?

Tell him, Tim.

What would he do with six dozen bottles of lemon essence?

I'll have a bit more of that, please mate.

Wake up, you bastards!

Suppose we better elect a rep.

I suppose.

Meeting!

Uh...

Who's gonna be the rep?

Anyone want to?

How about you, foley?

No, mate, let someone else do it.

Come on.

Who all's in favour?

Who's against?

Shit.

Boys.

The cocky...

Mis...

The owner of the property

wants to talk to you.

Morning.

I'm Mr. Dawson, the owner of timberoo.

Mr. king assures me that I've got before me

as good a bunch of shearers as I'm likely to get.

I'm very pleased about that.

You'll be doing the rams first up today.

My reason for talking to you is to say

that timberoo is a stub property.

One of those rams in there

won first prize at the royal show last year.

We paid for him ten thousand guineas.

Most of my others are worth half that and more at auction.

You all know how easy it is

for a money hungry shearer to incapacitate a ram.

Consequently, instead of the usual double rate,

I've decided to pay double plus a half.

What Mr. Dawson's saying is

these rams are worth a quid

so be careful with their pistols

and be careful with there knickers.

Mr. king.

The learner will not shear the ram.

No, of course not.

Careful.

Let him up!

Let him up?

I just got the bastard down.

Let him rest.

I want a meeting.

What about?

- The cocky. - Right.

What about him?

He's driving us up the wall.

Hey, cut it out.

You're the contractor now.

What do you wanna do?

The men have had a vote.

They voted to ban him.

The cocky?

Yep.

From his own shed?

He's driving us mad.

If he carries on running up and down like a headless chick,

the place will be ankle deep in pedigree balls.

Anyway, that's the vote.

Wait a minute.

What am I gonna tell him?

Tell him to go home, put his feet up and count his money.

Mr. Dawson.

Take it easy, you old bastard.

And yourself.

Been away from it too long.

See the cocky?

Bastard.

Bastard.

Tap it up!

Hey.

What did you do to that ram?

Mr. Dawson?

I think the shearer was having a joke with you.

Take you water bag.

You all right?

How's garth?

All right.

Oh, there's a letter for mom.

On the mantelpiece.

What she say?

Nothing much.

I've forgotten what scum they are.

I saw one of them this afternoon.

An old shearer.

Outside the shed on his hands and knees.

Yeah,

bloody contractor.

By god, they need taken down a peg or two.

Psst.

What's the food like?

Pig's food.

How're you feeling this morning?

Better sew him up, son.

Get out of it.

Son, you wrote me you shorn five thousand sheep.

You haven't done five.

What were you, a rousty?

Pack your things and get out.

Tell the kid how you got you first shed, Tim.

Hired by a contractor like the rest of us.

Take your time and don't cut them to pieces.

Thanks, Mr. king.

We've gotta do something about the cook.

He's getting worse.

What do you reckon he's put on these sandwiches?

They're not bad.

Bull shit.

Right.

How long you been shearing?

20 years.

A bit more.

Where abouts?

Western new south wales.

Queensland.

All over, really.

First shed in this area, funnily enough.

I'm buggered now.

Used to be able to go once.

I'm buggered now.

There's a good one for you.

Well what do you know?

Berry sheared exactly 140.

Hey, Tim, I think you made a mistake with the last number.

159, that's right.

No, two about that.

What, Arthur?

189, same as foley.

Tim?

The men have had a vote.

Quinn goes.

You can tell him tonight at tea.

Tomorrow's Saturday.

Be back by Monday with a new cook.

It's good.

No, it really is, try it.

He probably heard the whisper

that you blokes were unhappy about the food

and made an extra effort tonight.

Come on, at least try it.

The men had a meeting...

Guess we could have another meeting.

Why me?

You're the rep.

What?

I was just picturing that Quinn.

He's a fella, isn't he?

I see you go and you're good, son,

but I don't think you'd beat that Quinn in a straight fight.

Listen,

if he was fighting clean and I was fighting dirty,

I still couldn't beat the bastard.

Yeah.

It's a pity that Tim didn't supply Quinn

with more of the essence of lemon.

Why?

It seems to me,

Quinn with lemon essence

would be an easier prospect

than Quinn without lemon essence.

Mail truck tomorrow.

Mail truck tomorrow.

What time?

I bet by six.

What?

I'm a shearer.

Yes, I know, I've seen you.

What have you taken?

Essence of lemon.

A few bottles of essence of lemon.

Why essence of lemon?

To get rid of the cook.

He drinks it.

It's mostly alcohol.

I'm not a thief.

You're a good imitation of one.

I left the money.

On the shelf.

Thank you.

I'd like to watch the shearing.

Sorry, love.

There's no women allowed in the shed.

If 1 call my father, you'll be off the property.

What's the matter with the cook?

His cooking.

Hey, Quinn.

Come here.

This breakfast...

Tastes like roast turd.

Get out!

That sure is a lot of mail.

Just one of the blokes loading it.

You got the mail on there yet?

Just about.

I'll tell you, that Quinn,

meanest bugger I ever met.

You never were much of a knuckle man, Tim.

Now if I see him on the trek,

I'll stop and give him a lift,

same as I would anyone else.

If he turns nasty, I'll flatten him.

Right-o.

You're a brave man, Harry.

You have to be on this job.

See ya, Tim.

All right?

Mr. king will be down to see you as soon as he can.

Hello there.

You could do with a nice wash.

Wentworth,

you are a sight for sore eyes.

And how's?

Naughty.

How's naughty behaving herself?

Of course we've just met,

but I think we'll get a long very well together.

That's great.

Duck's on the pond!

Duck's on the pond!

Good morning.

Meeting.

Cocky's daughter or no cocky's daughter.

She claims we owe her a favour.

You invited her.

You invited her.

What favour?

I told you,

she turned a blind eye about the lemon essence.

Will you leave, please, miss Dawson?

No.

Men are having a meeting.

You'll have to watch one run.

That all right by you?

Yes, of course.

Cut it out!

How about a haircut?

Cut it out!

Stay still

and we'll knock some of the wool off you.

Come on!

Turn it up.

Put your leg in!

Thank you.

Saturday.

Stop!

Will you turn off the bloody light!

One a little bit restless there

in his stall is sir chimes.

Settling down better now.

Shouldn't be long now before the starter presses the button

to send them on their journey of one and a half miles.

Easy.

Get him.

In the stomach.

You got him now.

Get him down again.

Get him down, come on.

Get him down again.

That's enough.

How long we been here?

About four weeks.

More like four fucking years.

The bonus of 10 percent

was introduced last year following record prices for wool.

With a slump in prices this year,

grazers have asked that the bonus be removed.

This would reduced the shearing rate for 100

from seven pounds 13 and nine

to six pounds, 18 and six.

Pig's ass.

Hey! Hey!

You're not clean.

What's that?

There's dirt on the leg.

That's not dirt, that's a stain.

That's been there for years.

You haven't been on with the life?

Nope.

Today is my wedding anniversary.

You never told me you were married.

Yeah, I've got a son.

He'd be 20 now.

Was he a shearer?

I brought him out when he was 15.

He spent one day

and hated it sure through.

Caught the train back to his mother.

First I ever heard of you being married.

My wife worked it out one day.

I spent with her three years in 21.

Three years old told.

That's for you, foley.

Where's your boy now?

I heard last year

he took on down to Sydney

working in window dressing or something.

I wend down to Sydney

spent a whole month there.

By crikey, foley,

there's an awful lot of shop windows in Sydney.

Did you find him?

Hey?

Nope.

Don't forget to turn out the light.

Sunday.

Jack of it, mate!

What's wrong?

You're a bloody alcoholic.

You don't mean that.

Hopeless old drunk.

Fucking piss pot.

I had a few drinks

just like any shearer.

You don't mean that.

You've always been a very good friend of mine, foley.

Bloody Sunday.

Yeah.

Not too long to cut out.

Tim reckons...

Next Tuesday or Wednesday.

Yeah.

I think I'll go and take a look at tomorrow's sheep.

Right.

You coming?

Huh?

We're going over to take a look at tomorrow's sheep.

I'll just carry on with my letter.

What's the matter with you, Berry?

What do you mean, what's the matter with me?

Nothing the matter with me.

You queer or something?

I'm not queer.

You're always writing letters.

Who do you write letters to?

My wife.

God bugger me.

What the bloody hell's wrong with you?!

Hey.

Go and fetch old garth, will you?

Finish the one you're on and then we'll call it a day.

Good morning.

My father wants to know if whether you're

going to be resuming work this afternoon or tomorrow.

Bloody tomorrow!

Just put him in the back on the canvas.

Slide him in, that's the way.

Where's the proper vehicle?

In use.

Old Mrs. Taylor's got the use of it today.

Couldn't you have gotten another one?

Yeah, from Smithfield.

I've got an arrangement there.

Would cost you 50 quid this way.

Why didn't you?

For old garth?

If it would've been for the fucking cocky,

you'd have done it!

Yeah too right,

but then I'd known I'd get paid for it.

But don't worry.

He won't fell no bumps.

Hey.

Now if I hear that on the way into town

old garth has found his was into the back again,

I'll come looking for you.

Right?

Remember walking away from the orphanage every Saturday.

Every Saturday down the road

And took me to town.

I remember when I was 20 in Brisbane,

down from the shearing,

out in the bar of the toughest pub

and the toughest man in the bar,

Jackie sarrasin.

Big one, Jackie.

Orphy.

He sent me over a beer.

He gave me a lot of respect

and I was 20 and a shearer.

I was a gun shearer.

Last day, thank Christ.

Yeah.

We could use that up here any day now.

Foley?

Have you been here all night?

No.

Got here early.

Couldn't sleep.

Bloody room too hot.

Be in town tonight.

With a bit of luck.

You better pull your socks up, boy.

Or stop mucking about.

Haven't you been trying?

Oh, you cunning prick.

What's this then?

I don't know.

What's this?

I saw a bloke do this once in a shed in Victoria.

I've never seen it.

I'm not sure it's allowed.

They allow it in Victoria.

What's the idea of it?

The idea is he doesn't have to switch off between sheep.

The cooking oil stops it from burning out.

That wouldn't save you much.

Save you some.

I suppose we can have a meeting about it.

See if it's allowed.

I don't give a stuff.

Sure?

Unless you'd have a meeting.

Nah, stuff it.

I've got some news for you blokes.

Tim tells me the courts just ruled on the prosperity bonus.

And?

We've lost it.

They've handed you pennies.

I think there's gonna be a bit of strife.

Every shed in the last 10 years.

If I was there, nobody beat me.

That's right.

Every shed in the last 10 years.

Every shed in the last 10 years.

If I was there, nobody beat me.

That's right.

Every shed in the last 10 years.

That's right.

10 year.

Sheep-0?

Faster on cross bridge.

So am I, mate.

Sevens to me, sevens.

Under, under.

Throw me under.

Sevens, sevens, sevens, sevens!

What you got here, four?

No more bets.

No more bets.

Forget it.

Place your bets! Place your bets!

Stupid.

How much did you lose?

A lot.

You know,

we're odds on the strike, don't you?

How much did you lose?

Only a couple hundred.

Tim's getting a bit wobbly around the knees about all this.

He reckons we should take what the courts says.

Otherwise they'll bring in scab labour.

There's been trouble up north already.

What do you think?

I don't.

All I know is here I am again with me ass out of me tweeds.

Why don't you ask your mate, black Arthur?

He's gone.

And I'm going too.

Do you know where I'm going?

Back to the fish market.

Then why don't you piss off and annoy some other bugger?

Hello, foley.

Frankie Davis, remember?

I hear you got done.

Now we'd appreciate it

if you all went back where you came from.

I hate you to think you got us outnumbered!

The town's chockablock full of stinkin' shearers.

On strike!

We're just the welcoming committee!

You're scabs!

That's what you are!

You're the lowest form of life!

That was piss weak.

We got company.

Beer for 30 thereabouts?

Stuff 'em, Ivy!

They'll wreck the place.

I don't serve scabs.

J the Sundays of my life &

j are all the life I own j

j when Monday is too close for me to care j

j another view was screened j

j and another road was longer j

j and friends always waiting &

j somewhere j

j the roads I didn't take j

j' I bid them all so long &

j while Sunday warms my blood &

j and cools my mind &

j and the dreams I thought were true j

j are now mud beneath my footprints. J

j ten thousand ages j

j behind j j»