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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415721" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Off the Track</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh where the deuce is the track, the track?<br>Round an' round, an' forrard, an' back!<br>“Keep the sun on yer right,” they said—<br>But, hang it, he's gone an' got over my head!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Make for a belt of apple trees;”—<br>Jist so. But where's yer belt, if ye please?<br>By gum, it's hot! This child'll melt,<br>An' there ain't no apples, nor ain't no belt.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Keep clear o' the timber-getters' tracks,”<br>But wich is wich, I'd beg to ax?<br>They forks and jines, the devil knows how—<br>I wish I'd a sight o' either now!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Leave the track,” sez they, “when you sees<br>Some yards to the right two big grass trees.”<br>Two! It's dozens on dozens I pass—<br>Most on 'em big, an' all on 'em grass.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh where the deuce is the track, the track?<br>I'm fairly taken aback, aback.<br>“Keep tow'rd the river. You can't go wrong.”<br>Whew? Can't I, though! That was rayther strong.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Follow the lay o' the land,” sez they;<br>But, Lord, this flat ain't got no lay!<br>Whew! Ain't it hot on the pint o' the nose?<br>An' the more I mops the hotter I grows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“An' when you comes to the foot o' the range”—<br>WHEN! That's the pint. But ain't it strange,<br>That the further I goes, to left or right,<br>The more there ain't no range in sight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gum trees, gum trees, slim an' high,<br>Timber green an' timber dry.<br>Blackened stumps an' fallen logs—<br>Lively work as on we jogs!<br>Oh the devil an' all take the flat, the flat!<br>I'm one myself for the matter o' that.<br>I'm mazed, an' so is the brute I rides,<br>An' the sun's getting over the left besides.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dash it, I'll follow my nose, my nose!<br>Step out, straight forrard, here goes, here goes!<br> <br>Let the sun be left, or the sun be right,<br>Summat or other must come in sight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> * * * * *<br>Well, well! If this ain't too bad by half!<br>Lor', how the beggars 'll laugh an' chaff!<br>Back to my startin' point? Yes; tis so.<br>I put up them slip-rails six hours ago.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Brunton+Stephens">James Brunton Stephens</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=415721" data-title="Off the Track de James Brunton Stephens" data-description="Oh where the deuce is the track, the track?
Round an' round, an' forrard, an' back!
“Keep the sun on yer right,” they said—
But, hang it, he's gone an' got over my head!

“Make for a belt of apple trees;”—
Jist so. But where's yer belt..."></div>
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