(from "the new Oxford Book of Australian Verse")
There's a trade you all know well,
It's bringing cattle over.
On every track, to the Gulf and back,
Men know the Queensland drover.
chorus:
Pass the billy round, my boys!
Don't let the pint-pot stand there!
For tonight we drink the health
Of every overlander.
I come from the northern plains
Where the girls and grass are scanty;
Where the creeks run dry or ten foot high
And it's either drought or plenty.
There are men from every land,
From Spain and France and Flanders;
They're a well-mixed pack, both white and black,
The Queensland overlanders.
When we've earned a spree in town
We live like pigs in clover;
And the whole year's cheque pours down the neck
Of many a Queensland drover.
As I pass along the roads,
The children raise my dander
Crying 'Mother dear, take in the clothes,
Here comes an overlander!'
Now I'm bound for home once more,
On a prad that's quite a goer;
I can find a job with a crawling mob
On the banks of the Maranoa.
