When Stock Go By

Harry Morant

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Ah me! How clearly they come back -
Those golden days of long ago,
When down the droughty Bogan track
Tom came with stock from Ivanhoe.
The cattle passed our hometead gate,
Beside our well I watched them pass,
While Dad was in a fearful state
About his water and his grass.
Tom rode a bonny dark haired nagg;
He wore a battered cabbage-tree;
And as I filled our water-bag,
He came and asked a drink from me.
Tom said that drink was just like wine;
He said my eyes were soft and brown;
He said there were no eyes like mine
From Dandaloo to Sydney Town.
I watched him with a trembling lip,
Yet little thought I then that he
Who asked a drink from me that trip,
Would next trip ask my Dad for me!
Tom's droving days long since are done;
The wet tear oft has dimmed his eye;
For days when I was wood and won
Come back to me - when stock go by.

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