Explore "In 'the Benevolent'" by Edward Dyson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I'm off on the wallaby! ' cries Old Ben, / And his pipe is lit, and his swag is rolled; / There is nothing here for us old-time men, / But up north, I hear, they are on the gold. ' / And he shuffles off with a feeble stride, / With his ragged swag and his billy black. / He is making tracks for the other side, / O'er the river deep, or the Great Divide; / But at night, dead beat, he travels back.
Then at morn next day he is off again, / With an eager light in his aged eyes, / Tramping away on his journey vain / For the land of promise beyond the rise. / Over the range there is work to do, / There is roaring life at the shanty bars. / He will tramp the plains whilst the skies are blue, / And will wander the great wide bushland through, / And be soothed to sleep by the blinking stars.