There was girl that worked on a farm. Her dad had recently got some sheep for shearing. They put the sheep in the shed for the night. The next morning at 6 a.m, she had breakfast. She was grumpy because of the time, and to make things worse she still had morning jobs to do on the farm.
But when the only lamb wraps around her leg for milk, she forgets about being grumpy. She then went down to the shed for the shearing. She was the rousie, which meant that she had to spread each fleece on the table, sort the good wool from bad, help keep the floor clean from the wool, and help to load the wool press.
Soon it is time for Smoko, but it didn’t last long enough. Soon there are more sheep to pen, more wool to sort, more sweeping, lunchtime comes and goes. The shearer doesn't talk much, but his eyes tell the whole thing. “Keep that pen full! Fleece-o! Get that fleece!”
Soon after, their done. All 1,500. There is a truck waiting. Away goes the wool in bales. Bales that get money so the farm can keep going, money to the bank, to the shearer, and the rousie.