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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344097" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Dying Stockman</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A strapping young stockman lay dying,<br>His saddle supporting his head;<br>His two mates around him were crying,<br> As he rose on his pillow and said:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Wrap me up with my stockwhip and blanket,<br>And bury me deep down below,<br>Where the dingoes and crows can't molest me,<br>In the shade where the coolibahs grow.<br>&quot;Oh! had I the flight of the bronzewing,<br>Far o'er the plains would I fly,<br>Straight to the land of my childhood,<br>And there would I lay down and die.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Then cut down a couple of saplings,<br>Place one at my head and my toe,<br>Carve on them cross, stockwhip, and saddle,<br>To show there's a stockman below.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Hark! there's the wail of a dingo,<br>Watchful and weird—I must go,<br>For it tolls the death-knell of the stockman<br>From the gloom of the scrub down below.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;There's tea in the battered old billy;<br>Place the pannikins out in a row,<br>And we'll drink to the next merry meeting,<br>In the place where all good fellows go.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;And oft in the shades of the twilight,<br>When the soft winds are whispering low,<br>And the dark'ning shadows are falling,<br>Sometimes think of the stockman below.&quot;</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=344097" data-title="The Dying Stockman de Andrew Barton Paterson" data-description="A strapping young stockman lay dying,
His saddle supporting his head;
His two mates around him were crying,
 As he rose on his pillow and said:

&quot;Wrap me up with my stockwhip and blanket,
And bury me deep down below,
Where the dingoes and cro..."></div>
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