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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344120" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Man from Snowy River</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around <br>That the colt from old Regret had got away, <br>And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound, <br>So all the cracks had gathered to the fray. <br>All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far <br>Had mustered at the homestead overnight, <br>For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are, <br>And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup, <br>The old man with his hair as white as snow; <br>But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up- <br>He would go wherever horse and man could go. <br>And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand, <br>No better horseman ever held the reins; <br>For never horse could throw him while the saddle girths would stand, <br>He learnt to ride while droving on the plains. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast, <br>He was something like a racehorse undersized, <br>With a touch of Timor pony - three parts thoroughbred at least - <br>And such as are by mountain horsemen prized. <br>He was hard and tough and wiry - just the sort that won't say die - <br>There was courage in his quick impatient tread; <br>And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye, <br>And the proud and lofty carriage of his head. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay, <br>And the old man said, &quot;That horse will never do <br>For a long and tiring gallop-lad, you'd better stop away, <br>Those hills are far too rough for such as you.&quot; <br>So he waited sad and wistful - only Clancy stood his friend - <br>&quot;I think we ought to let him come,&quot; he said; <br>&quot;I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end, <br>For both his horse and he are mountain bred.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side, <br>Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough, <br>Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride, <br>The man that holds his own is good enough. <br>And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home, <br>Where the river runs those giant hills between; <br>I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam, <br>But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So he went - they found the horses by the big mimosa clump - <br>They raced away towards the mountain's brow, <br>And the old man gave his orders, &quot;Boys, go at them from the jump, <br>No use to try for fancy riding now. <br>And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right. <br>Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills, <br>For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight, <br>If once they gain the shelter of those hills.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So Clancy rode to wheel them - he was racing on the wing <br>Where the best and boldest riders take their place, <br>And he raced his stockhorse past them, and he made the ranges ring <br>With stockwhip, as he met them face to face. <br>Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash, <br>But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view, <br>And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash, <br>And off into the mountain scrub they flew. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black <br>Resounded to the thunder of their tread, <br>And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back <br>From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead. <br>And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their sway, <br>Were mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide; <br>And the old man muttered fiercely, &quot;We may bid the mob good day, <br>No man can hold them down the other side.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When they reached the mountain's summit, even Clancy took a pull, <br>It well might make the boldest hold their breath, <br>The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full <br>Of wombat holes, and any slip was death. <br>But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head, <br>And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer, <br>And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed, <br>While the others stood and watched in very fear. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet, <br>He cleared the fallen timbers in his stride, <br>And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat - <br>It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride. <br>Through the stringybarks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground, <br>Down the hillside at a racing pace he went; <br>And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound, <br>At the bottom of that terrible descent. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill <br>And the watchers on the mountain standing mute, <br>Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still, <br>As he raced across the clearing in pursuit. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met <br>In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals <br>On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet, <br>With the man from Snowy River at their heels. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam. <br>He followed like a bloodhound in their track, <br>Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home, <br>And alone and unassisted brought them back. <br>But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot, <br>He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur; <br>But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot, <br>For never yet was mountain horse a cur. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise <br>Their torn and rugged battlements on high, <br>Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze <br>At midnight in the cold and frosty sky, <br>And where around The Overflow the reed beds sweep and sway <br>To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide, <br>The man from Snowy River is a household word today, <br>And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.</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=344120" data-title="The Man from Snowy River de Andrew Barton Paterson" data-description="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. 
All the tried and no..."></div>
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