The Old Bush Songs Part 16

Whilst drafting one day he was horned by a cow.

"Alas!" cried poor Jack, "it's all up with me now, For I never again shall my saddle regain, Nor bound like a wallaby over the plain."

His whip it is silent, his dogs they do mourn, His steed looks in vain for his master's return; No friend to bemoan him, unheeded he dies; Save Australia's dark sons, few know where he lies.

Now, stockman, if ever on some future day After the wild mob you happen to stray, Tread softly where wattles their sweet fragrance spread, Where alone and neglected poor Jack's bones are laid.

MUSTERING SONG

(Air: "So Early in the Morning.")

The boss last night in the hut did say- "We start to muster at break of day; So be up first thing, and don't be slow; Saddle your horses and off you go."

Chorus

So early in the morning, so early in the morning, So early in the morning, before the break of day.

Such a night in the yard there never was seen (The horses were fat and the gra.s.s was green); Bursting of girths and slipping of packs As the stockmen saddled the fastest hacks.

Chorus: So early in the morning, &c.

Across the plain we jog along Over gully, swamp, and billabong; We drop on a mob pretty lively, too We round 'em up and give 'em a slue.

Chorus: So early in the morning, &c.

Now the scrub grows thick and the cattle are wild, A regular caution to this 'ere child- A new chum man on an old chum horse, Who sails through the scrub as a matter of course.

Chorus: So early in the morning, &c.

I was close up stuck in a rotten bog; I got a buster jumping a log; I found this scouting rather hot, So I joined the n.i.g.g.e.rs with the lot we'd got.

Chorus: So early in the morning, &c.

A long-haired shepherd we chanced to meet With a water bag, billy, and dog complete; He came too close to a knocked up steer, Who up a sapling made him clear.

Chorus: So early in the morning, &c.

Now on every side we faintly hear The crack of the stockwhip drawing near; To the camp the cattle soon converge, As from the thick scrub they emerge.

Chorus: So early in the morning, &c.

We hastily comfort the inner man With the warm contents of the billy can; The beef and damper are pa.s.sed about Before we tackle the cutting out.

Chorus: So early in the morning, &c.

We're at it now-that bally calf Would surely make a sick man laugh; The silly fool can't take a joke; I hope some day in the drought he'll croak.

Chorus: So early in the morning, &c.

We've 'em now-the cows and calves (Things here are never done by halves); Strangers, workers, and milkers, too, Of scrubbers also not a few.

Chorus: So early in the morning, &c.

It's getting late, we'd better push; 'Tis a good long way across the bush, And the mob to drive are middling hard; I do not think we'll reach the yard.

Chorus: So early in the morning, &c.

THE AUSTRALIAN STOCKMAN

The sun peers o'er you wooded ridge and thro' the forest dense, Its golden edge o'er the mountain ledge looks down on the stockyard fence, Looks down, looks down, looks down on the stockyard fence; And dark creeks rush thro' the tangled brush, when their shuddering shadows throng Until they chime in the rude rough rhyme of the wild goburra's song.

Chorus

Till they chime, ha! ha! till they chime, ha! ha! in the wild goburra's song; Till they chime, ha! ha! till they chime, ha! ha! in the wild goburra's song.

The night owl to her home hath fled, to shun the glorious pomp Of golden day she speeds away to her nest in the tea-tree swamp; Away, away to her nest in the tea-tree swamp.

The dingo looks with a timid stare as he stealthily prowls along, And his pattering feet in concert beat with the wild goburra's song.

Chorus: And they beat, ha! ha! &c.

Oh! let them boast their city's wealth, who toil in a dusty town; Give me the beam on the mountain stream, and the range's dark-faced frown- The stream, the stream, and the range's dark-faced frown.

When our steed shall pa.s.s o'er the quiv'ring gra.s.s, and the crack of the sounding thong Shall bid the startled echoes join the wild goburra's song.

Chorus: And they join, ha! ha! &c.

THE SHEPHERD

(Air: "She Wore a Wreath of Roses.")

He wore an old blue shirt the night that first we met, An old and tattered cabbage-tree concealed his locks of jet; His footsteps had a languor, his voice a husky tone; Both man and dog were spent with toil as they slowly wandered home.

Chorus

I saw him but a moment-yet methinks I see him now- While his sheep were gently feeding 'neath the rugged mountain brow.

When next we met, the old blue shirt and cabbage-tree were gone; A brand new suit of tweed and "Doctor Dod" he had put on; Arm in arm with him was one who strove, and not in vain, To ease his pockets of their load by drinking real champagne.

I saw him but a moment, and he was going a pace, Shouting n.o.bbler after n.o.bbler, with a smile upon his face.

When next again I saw that man his suit of tweed was gone, The old blue shirt and cabbage-tree once more he had put on; Slowly he trudged along the road and took the well-known track From the station he so lately left with a swag upon his back.