Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344045" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Saltbush Bill</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now is the law of the Overland that all in the West obey -- <br>A man must cover with travelling sheep a six-mile stage a day; <br>But this is the law which the drovers make, right easily understood, <br>They travel their stage where the grass is bad, but they camp where the grass is good; <br>They camp, and they ravage the squatter's grass till never a blade remains. <br>Then they drift away as the white clouds drift on the edge of the saltbush plains: <br>From camp to camp and from run to run they battle it hand to hand <br>For a blade of grass and the right to pass on the track of the Overland. <br>For this is the law of the Great Stock Routes, 'tis written in white and black -- <br>The man that goes with a travelling mob must keep to a half-mile track; <br>And the drovers keep to a half-mile track on the runs where the grass is dead, <br>But they spread their sheep on a well-grassed run till they go with a two-mile spread. <br>So the squatters hurry the drovers on from dawn till the fall of night, <br>And the squatters' dogs and the drovers' dogs get mixed in a deadly fight. <br>Yet the squatters' men, thought they haunt the mob, are willing the peace to keep, <br>For the drovers learn how to use their hands when they go with the travelling sheep; <br>But this is the tale of a Jackaroo that came from a foreign strand, <br>And the fight that he fought with Saltbush Bill, the King of the Overland. <br>Now Saltbush Bill was a drover tough as ever the country knew, <br>He had fought his way on the Great Stock Routes from the sea to the big Barcoo; <br>He could tell when he came to a friendly run that gave him a chance to spread, <br>And he knew where the hungry owners were that hurried his sheep ahead; <br>He was drifting down in the Eighty drought with a mob that could scarcely creep <br>(When the kangaroos by the thousand starve, it is rough on the travelling sheep), <br>And he camped one night at the crossing-place on the edge of the Wilga run; <br>&quot;We must manage a feed for them here,&quot; he said, &quot;or half of the mob are done!&quot; <br>So he spread them out when they left the camp wherever they liked to go, <br>Till he grew aware of a Jackaroo with a station-hand in tow. <br>They set to work on the straggling sheep, and with many a stockwhip crack <br>The forced them in where the grass was dead in the space of the half-mile track; <br>And William prayed that the hand of Fate might suddenly strike him blue <br>But he'd get some grass for his starving sheep in the teeth of that Jackaroo. <br>So he turned and cursed the Jackaroo; he cursed him, alive or dead, <br>From the soles of his great unwieldly feet to the crown of his ugly head, <br>With an extra curse on the moke he rode and the cur at his heels that ran, <br>Till the Jackaroo from his horse got down and went for the drover-man; <br>With the station-hand for his picker-up, though the sheep ran loose the while, <br>They battled it out on the well-grassed plain in the regular prize-ring style. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now, the new chum fought for his honour's sake and the pride of the English race, <br>But the drover fought for his daily bread with a smile on his bearded face; <br>So he shifted ground, and he sparred for wind, and he made it a lengthy mill, <br>And from time to time as his scouts came in they whispered to Saltbush Bill -- <br>&quot;We have spread the sheep with a two-mile spread, and the grass it is something grand; <br>You must stick to him, Bill, for another round for the pride of the Overland.&quot; <br>The new chum made it a rushing fight, though never a blow got home, <br>Till the sun rode high in the cloudless sky and glared on the brick-red loam, <br>Till the sheep drew in to the shelter-trees and settled them down to rest; <br>Then the drover said he would fight no more, and gave his opponent best. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So the new chum rode to the homestead straight, and told them a story grand <br>Of the desperate fight that he fought that day with the King of the Overland; <br>And the tale went home to the Public Schools of the pluck of the English swell -- <br>How the drover fought for his very life, but blood in the end must tell. <br>But the travelling sheep and the Wilga sheep were boxed on the Old Man Plain; <br>'Twas a full week's work ere they drafted out and hunted them off again; <br>A week's good grass in their wretched hides, with a curse and a stockwhip crack <br>They hunted them off on the road once more to starve on the half-mile track. <br>And Saltbush Bill, on the Overland, will many a time recite <br>How the best day's work that he ever did was the day that he lost the fight.</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=344045" data-title="Saltbush Bill de Andrew Barton Paterson" data-description="Now is the law of the Overland that all in the West obey -- 
A man must cover with travelling sheep a six-mile stage a day; 
But this is the law which the drovers make, right easily understood, 
They travel their stage where the grass is bad, but ..."></div>
</div>
</div>