A Shearer's Dream (1895)
The moon was gently rising across the distant plain—
By the light it gave I hobbled out, and camp'd one night again
Beneath the drooping yumong trees, close by Macquarie's stream;
To rest myself I went to bed, but only for to dream.
I dreamt I saw the river banks o'erflow again once more;
The grass was like a harvest field—as 'twas in days of yore;
My horses' coats were glossy, they looked so plump and round;
My heart beat fast with gladness to see them grazing round.
I sniffed the balmy breezes that played among the trees,
And listen'd to the small birds and humming of the bees.
'Twas spring-time on the river—altho' it was in June—
It seemed to me a paradise—all nature was in bloom.
I was going to an early shed where they shear them by the score,
And where the lads were staunch and true and Unionists to the core—
It was to Hill's, at Buttabone—a famous river run—
My fancy seemed to waft me as I slumber'd on.
My tucker-bags were full of dainties, such as cake—
And nothing like the johnnies on the coals that shearers make—
With plenty of good mutton, and none of it was lean.
The sun had rose when I awoke and found it was a dream.
E. E. GEORGE.
Notes
Published in the Wagga NSW trade union newspaper the Worker Saturday 14 December 1895 p. 4.