<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=343955" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Black Harry's Team</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No soft-skinned Durham steers are they, <br>No Devons plump and red, <br>But brindled, black and iron-grey <br>That mark the mountain-bred; <br>For mountain-bred and mountain-broke, <br>With sullen eyes agleam, <br>No stranger's hand could put a yoke <br>On old Black Harry's team. <br> </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pull out, pull out, at break of morn <br>The creeks are running white, <br>And Tiger, Spot and Snailey-horn <br>Must bend their bows by night; <br>And axles, wheels, and flooring boards <br>Are swept with flying spray <br>As shoulder-deep, through mountain fords <br>The leaders feel their way. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>He needs no sign of cross or kirn <br>To guide him as he goes, <br>For every twist and every turn <br>That old black leader knows. <br>Up mountains steep they heave and strain <br>Where never wheel has rolled, <br>And what the toiling leaders gain <br>The body-bullocks hold. <br> </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where eagle-hawks their eyries make, <br>On sidlings steep and blind, <br>He rigs the good old-fashioned brake--- <br>A tree tied on behind. <br>Up mountains, straining to the full, <br>Each poler plays his part--- <br>The sullen, stubborn, bullock-pull <br>That breaks a horse's heart. <br> </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beyond the farthest bridle track <br>His wheels have blazed the way; <br>The forest giants, burnt and black, <br>Are ear-marked by his dray. <br>Through belts of scrub, where messmates grow <br>His juggernaut has rolled, <br>For stumps and saplings have to go <br>When Harry's team takes hold. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> <br>On easy grade and rubber tyre <br>The tourist car goes through, <br>They halt a moment to admire <br>The far-flung mountain view. <br>The tourist folk would be amazed <br>If they could get to know <br>They take the track Black Harry blazed <br>A Hundred Years Ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Andrew+Barton+Paterson">Andrew Barton Paterson</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=343955" data-title="Black Harry's Team de Andrew Barton Paterson" data-description="No soft-skinned Durham steers are they, No Devons plump and red, But brindled, black and iron-grey That mark the mountain-bred; For mountain-bred and mountain-broke, With sullen eyes agleam, No stranger's hand could put a yoke On old Black ..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black