BUSH BALLADS AND RHYMES 



A life and death matter ; so, lads, look alive," 

 Half-dress'd, in the dark to the stockyard 

 we ran. 



There was bridling with hurry, and saddling 

 with haste. 

 Confusion and cursing for lack of a moon ; 

 ** Be quick with these buckles, we've no time 

 to waste " ; 

 "Mind the mare, she can use her hind legs 

 to some tune." 

 " Make sure of the crossing-place ; strike the 

 old track, 

 They've fenced off the new one ; look out 

 for the holes 

 On the wombat hills." '' Down with the slip 

 rails ; stand back." 

 '* And ride, boys, the pair of you, ride for 

 your souls." 



In the low branches heavily laden with dew. 

 In the long grasses spoiling with dead wood 



that day, 

 Where the black wood, the box, and the bastard 



oak grew. 



Between the tall gumtrees we gallop'd away — 



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