Explore "On the Trek" by Andrew Barton Paterson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Oh, the weary, weary journey on the trek, day after day, / With sun above and silent veldt below; / And our hearts keep turning homeward to the youngsters far away, / And the homestead where the climbing roses grow. / Shall we see the flats grow golden with the ripening of the grain? / Shall we hear the parrots calling on the bough? / Ah! the weary months of marching ere we hear them call again, / For we're going on a long job now.
In the drowsy days on escort, riding slowly half asleep, / With the endless line of waggons stretching back, / While the khaki soldiers travel like a mob of travelling sheep, / Plodding silent on the never-ending track, / While the constant snap and sniping of the foe you never see / Makes you wonder will your turn come -- when and how? / As the Mauser ball hums past you like a vicious kind of bee -- / Oh! we're going on a long job now.