Out on the board the old shearer stands
Grasping his shears in his thin bony hands
Fixed is his gaze on a bare-bellied 'joe'
Glory if he gets her won't he make the ringer go!
['joe' == yow, probably same as ewe. Ringer: fastest at the job]

Click go the shears boys, click click click
Wide is his blow and his hands move quick
The ringer looks around and is beaten by a blow
And curses the old snagger with the bare-bellied 'joe'.

In the middle of the floor in his cane-bottomed chair
Is the boss of the board with his eyes everywhere
Notes well each fleece as it comes to the screen
Paying strict attention if it's taken off clean. Click, etc

The tar boy is there and awaiting in demand,
With his blacken'd tar pot, and his tarry hand,
Sees one old sheep with a cut upon its back
Here's what he's waiting for - "Tar, here, Jack". Click, etc

Shearing is all over and we've all got our cheques,
Roll up your swags, boys, we're off on the tracks.
The first pub we come to, it's there we'll have a spree,
And everyone that comes along, its "Come and drink with me!". Click, etc
[swag - 'bedding roll' with possessions in]

Down by the bar the old shearer stands,
Grasping his glass in his thin bony hands:
Fixed is his gaze on a green-painted keg,
Glory he'll get down on it before he stirs a leg. Click, etc