“There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around That the colt from old Regret had got away, And had joined the wild bush horses—he was worth a thousand pound, So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.”

“There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup, But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up— He would go wherever horse and man could go.”

“The man from Snowy River is a household word today, And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.”

“He followed like a bloodhound on their track, Till they halted, cowed and beaten; then he turned their heads for home, And alone and unassisted brought them back.”

“The man from Snowy River paused: ‘I see you don’t believe me— Do you think I’d tell you lies? Do you think I’d tell a story? Trust you ‘d have to swear was true? Swear by something that you never Dream’d of, in your wildest dreams, could possibly be done?'”

“He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet, He cleared the fallen timber in his stride, And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat— It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.”

“Down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise Their torn and rugged battlements on high, Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,”

“He sent it full of danger, like a rifle through the air, And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his chair.”

“He braced himself to catch it, and instead of catching black, He only caught a bounding piece of sky.”

“He landed close beside him, and they raced away together Down the river of the stand they rode the ranges through, And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound, At the lowest width fordable on the river of the Dugga Dee.”

“The man that holds his own is good enough.”

“And this here wild mate of the brumbies at my whistle’s call Comes racing like a torrent down the fall.”

“He would pick the wildest colts and try to break them to his hand, Round the station you would hear his stockwhip play. It was merry in the morning to the breaker at his trade, And they dared not do a double on the way.”

“His first-born sees the light to-day. And twenty carts of timber reached the ground, And now the men are wanted, and the sheds are to be made, To shelter all the shearers from the rain.”

“Through the stringy barks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground, Down the hillside at a racing pace he went.”