ON THE TRACK
By "Bill Bowyang."
In isolated districts far away from man's unrest,
Where homesteads may be miles apart and tracks are not the best;
Across the bridgeless rivers where the croc, oft lies in wait.
The sturdy Outback mailman rides his horse his only mate.
With mail-bags flung across his steed he jogs along his way,
The sun is high, he's come afar, and miles before him lay ;
He sings a bushman's jolly song, then talks aloud to Ned,
Ned whinnies low and seems know the words his master said.
And through the trackless forest, and across the sun-baked plain,
The lonely mailman carries on through drought, and heat. and rain.
He may not run to schedule, for out where he, plies his art,
To get through with the mails at all, is doing well his part.
He stares ahead across the sand, sweat thick upon his cheek,
Whilst tantalising mirages proclaim a nearby creek,
But he has ridden o'er the plain too oft to give it heed,
He scarce thinks of his own great thirst but worries for his steed.
By shearing shed, and where the miners search the earth for gold,
Past native camps where even yet there dwells the warrior bold ;
where willy-willys twist and turn, through swamps, round billabong,
Where scarce a white man rode before, you'll hear his jolly song.
For to the Outback mailman such things don't count at ail,
The mail must get through every time no matter what befall ;
The foes may lurk around him, and bush-fires or tempests roar,
And sun burn fierce upon his brow like naught they burned before.
He rides along unheeding, finding joy upon his way.
In lonely folks who greet him and the news be may convey ;
His saddle's oft his pillow, and the soft brawn earth his bed,
Whilst curlew cry, and dingoes howl, and stars gleam far o'erhead.
Of him the world hears little, it knows not of brave deeds done.
Of long rides through the wilderness from dawn to set of sun ;
There's few to sing his praises, few that know his gallant worth,
'Cept the folk we call Outbackers in the land that gave him birth.
He lives his life with Nature in a world both sure and true.
The birds, the trees, the "Open" and the sky of azure blue,
The great Outback has bred him, this lone carrier of the mails,
And the great Outback will claim him when the breath within him fails.
Kuranda. EFFIE PIKE.
Notes
From the Queensland Newspaper The Northern Miner 19 Sep 1938 p. 4.
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