Now all of us bunch, we were having our lunch,
At a station one bright sunny, day,
When a stranger appeared with a big flowing beard,
And a habit of plenty to say.
He soon made a start on the tea and jam tart,
He ate like a half famished Turk,
And he said to my mate as he finished the plate,
"How's things about this way for work?"
"Can you ride?" the boss said, as he passed him some bread,
And the new fellow seemed to explode,
"There ain't one bloomin' horse on this whole watercourse
What can buck, that I haven't just rode.
"I'm just off the track, I've come from outback,
Where they say that the horses are bad.
But I soon broke their hearts, they were fit for spring-carts,
When I left by the old cattle pad.
"I'm up there to stop when I get up on top,
There's no falling off about me,
For I drive in the tacks when I get on their backs,
I tell you I'm pretty to see.
"They can back buck and whirl, they can go up and twirl,
I tell you I always keep cool,
They can spin and reverse, but I'll bet all my purse,
When they stop that I'm still in the stool.
"They can kick, strike or bite, and rear if they like,
Or turn inside out if they can,
I'll be there when it ends, I'm telling friends,
That you've all struck a pretty good man.
"I've never yet struck a horse that could buck,
To find one I've rode long and hard."
Here the boss stopped him flat, "Here, put on your hat,
And come with us down to the yard.
"Jim, cut out the snag, put his head in a bag,
And throw on that knee-pad of Fred's,
Now we all wish you luck, for this beggar can buck,
The last chap that got on him is dead.
"Here he is sir, at last, the saddle's made fast,
And hope he don't turn out too tame."
But the man from outback, on his old creamy hack,
Was a dust cloud far put on the plain.
Now the boss and us crowd, we laughed long and loud,
For the joke was a good one no doubt,
'Cos the Snag we had ready was the cowboy's old neddy
That was foaled in the Ninety-one drought.
The yarns are still told by the boys as of old,
But down in the huts of a night,
When the laughter grows loud by some of the crowd,
You can bet they've just heard of The Skite.
Notes
From the NSW Newspaper The Scone Advocate 5 Jul 1929 p. 6.
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