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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344026" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>On the Trek</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, the weary, weary journey on the trek, day after day, <br>With sun above and silent veldt below; <br>And our hearts keep turning homeward to the youngsters far away, <br>And the homestead where the climbing roses grow. <br>Shall we see the flats grow golden with the ripening of the grain? <br>Shall we hear the parrots calling on the bough? <br>Ah! the weary months of marching ere we hear them call again, <br>For we're going on a long job now. <br>In the drowsy days on escort, riding slowly half asleep, <br>With the endless line of waggons stretching back, <br>While the khaki soldiers travel like a mob of travelling sheep, <br>Plodding silent on the never-ending track, <br>While the constant snap and sniping of the foe you never see <br>Makes you wonder will your turn come -- when and how? <br>As the Mauser ball hums past you like a vicious kind of bee -- <br>Oh! we're going on a long job now. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the dash and the excitement and the novelty are dead, <br>And you've seen a load of wounded once or twice, <br>Or you've watched your old mate dying, with the vultures overhead -- <br>Well, you wonder if the war is worth the price. <br>And down along the Monaro now they're starting out to shear, <br>I can picture the excitement and the row; <br>But they'll miss me on the Lachlan when they call the roll this year, <br>For we're going on a long job now.</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>
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<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=344026" data-title="On the Trek de Andrew Barton Paterson" data-description="Oh, the weary, weary journey on the trek, day after day, 
With sun above and silent veldt below; 
And our hearts keep turning homeward to the youngsters far away, 
And the homestead where the climbing roses grow. 
Shall we see the flats grow golde..."></div>
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