Page:Backblock Ballads and Later Verses (C.J. Dennis, 1918).djvu/22

Then we knew the man before us was a Master of our callin';
    One of those great lords of language gone for ever from Out-back;
Heroes of an ancient order; men who punched across the border;
    Vanished giants of the sixties; puncher-princes of the track.

Now we heard the timbers straining heard the waggon's loud complainin',
    And the master cried triumphant, as he swung 'em into line,
As they put their shoulders to it, lifted her, and pulled her through it:
    "That's the way we useter do it in the days o' sixty-nine!"

Near the foot of Mount St. Leonard lives an old, enfeebled party
    Who retired from bullock-punchin' at the age of eighty-three.
If you seek him folk will mention, merely, that he draws the pension;
    But to us he looms a Master—Prince of Punchers, Dad McGee!