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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344171" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Swagman's Rest</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">We buried old Bob where the bloodwoods wave <br>At the foot of the Eaglehawk; <br>We fashioned a cross on the old man's grave <br>For fear that his ghost might walk; <br>We carved his name on a bloodwood tree <br>With the date of his sad decease <br>And in place of "Died from effects of spree" <br>We wrote "May he rest in peace". <br>For Bob was known on the Overland, <br>A regular old bush wag, <br>Tramping along in the dust and sand, <br>Humping his well-worn swag. <br>He would camp for days in the river-bed, <br>And loiter and "fish for whales". <br>"I'm into the swagman's yard," he said. <br>"And I never shall find the rails." </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But he found the rails on that summer night <br>For a better place -- or worse, <br>As we watched by turns in the flickering light <br>With an old black gin for nurse. <br>The breeze came in with the scent of pine, <br>The river sounded clear, <br>When a change came on, and we saw the sign <br>That told us the end was near. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He spoke in a cultured voice and low -- <br>"I fancy they've 'sent the route'; <br>I once was an army man, you know, <br>Though now I'm a drunken brute; <br>But bury me out where the bloodwoods wave, <br>And, if ever you're fairly stuck, <br>Just take and shovel me out of the grave <br>And, maybe, I'll bring you luck. <br>"For I've always heard --" here his voice grew weak, <br>His strength was wellnigh sped, <br>He gasped and struggled and tried to speak, <br>Then fell in a moment -- dead. <br>Thus ended a wasted life and hard, <br>Of energies misapplied -- <br>Old Bob was out of the "swagman's yard" <br>And over the Great Divide. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The drought came down on the field and flock, <br>And never a raindrop fell, <br>Though the tortured moans of the starving stock <br>Might soften a fiend from hell. <br>And we thought of the hint that the swagman gave <br>When he went to the Great Unseen -- <br>We shovelled the skeleton out of the grave <br>To see what his hint might mean. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We dug where the cross and the grave posts were, <br>We shovelled away the mould, <br>When sudden a vein of quartz lay bare <br>All gleaming with yellow gold. <br>'Twas a reef with never a fault nor baulk <br>That ran from the range's crest, <br>And the richest mine on the Eaglehawk <br>Is known as "The Swagman's Rest".</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=344171" data-title="The Swagman's Rest de Andrew Barton Paterson" data-description="We buried old Bob where the bloodwoods wave At the foot of the Eaglehawk; We fashioned a cross on the old man's grave For fear that his ghost might walk; We carved his name on a bloodwood tree With the date of his sad decease And in place of..."></div> </div> </div>
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