19073 Australian Verse 



So throw the weary pen aside 



And let the papers rest, 

 For we must saddle up and ride 



Towards the blue hill's breast; 

 And we must travel far and fast 



Across their rugged maze, 

 To find the Spring of Youth at last, 

 And call back from the buried past 



The old Australian ways. 



When Clancy took the drover's track 



In years of long ago, 

 He drifted to the outer back 



Beyond the Overflow; 

 By rolling plain and rocky shelf, 



With stock whip in his hand, 

 He reached at last, oh, lucky elf, 

 The Town of Come-and-help-yourself 



In Rough-and-ready Land. 



And if it be that you would know 



The tracks he used to ride, 

 Then you must saddle up and go 



Beyond the Queensland side 

 Beyond the reach of rule or law, 



To ride the long day through, 

 In Nature's homestead filled with awe: 

 You then might see what Clancy saw 



And know what Clancy knew. 1 



Slowly and slowly those grey streams glide, 



Drifting along with a languid motion, 

 Lapping the reed-beds on either side, 



Wending their way to the Northern Ocean. 

 Grey are the plains where the emus pass 



Silent and slow, with their staid demeanour; 

 Over the dead men's graves the grass 



Maybe is waving a trifle greener. 



1 From "The Old Australian Ways," by Andrew Barton Paterson. 



C 229 



