Explore "Song of the Old Bullock-Driver" by Henry Lawson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Far back in the days when the blacks used to ramble / In long single file 'neath the evergreen tree, / The wool-teams in season came down from Coonamble, / And journeyed for weeks on their way to the sea. / 'Twas then that our hearts and our sinews were stronger, / For those were the days when the bushman was bred. / We journeyed on roads that were rougher and longer / Than roads where the feet of our grandchildren tread.
With mates who have gone to the great Never-Never, / And mates whom I've not seen for many a day, / I camped on the banks of the Cudgegong River / And yarned at the fire by the old bullock-dray. / I would summon them back from the far Riverina, / From days that shall be from all others distinct, / And sing to the sound of an old concertina / Their rugged old songs where strange fancies were linked.