On the Castpereagh.

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, Volume III, 1 October 1900, Page 49

On the Castpereagh.

" Gad ! boys, it's hard to be lying here, A useless cripple, whose days ai'e done, Hearing the ring of the cowhide lash As the passing mobs thro' the brushwood crash, And the sound of some squatter's gun. " No more will I hold the bridle rein, Or the hills resound with my stockwhip's crack. You'll think of me, when you vvaut a song, Buried beneath a kurrajong, 'Way back on the Six-Mile Track. "There's a girl down thereat the Stockman's Rest, A don on a horse, you should see her ride — Give her the colt, and don't forget, Tell her to keep him, and not to fret, When I'm o'er the Great Divide.

"As for the brumby that's done for me- - I'd like to tackle her once again ; She'll be a rare 'un that laid me low ; Don't spoil her mouth, but take her slow, With a light hand on the rein. " It seems as though T were on her now, Scudding along for a farewell ride, Over the hills of the Castlereagh, Down the track of the Endless Way, And into the Great Divide. "Why, boys! don't you hear the stockwhip's ring ? How dark it's got, I can scarcely see, They're working late on the Castloreagh, I'd clean forgot, it's mustering day, And they're waiting there for me."

* * * * # The boys still drive on the Castlereagh, And oft' when the nights are long, And the dingoes howl in some roving pack, They think of a grave by the Six-Mile Track, 'Neath the shade of a kurrajong. '

Constance Raymond.

Vol. lI.— No. 18.— 4.