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THE BUSHMAN'S LULLABY
Lift me down to the creek bank, Jack,
It must be fresher outside;
The long hot day is well-nigh done;
It's a chance if I see another one;
I should like to look on the setting sun,
And the water, cool and wide.
We didn't think it would be like this
Last week, as we rode together;
True mates we've been in this far land
For many a year, since Devon's strand
We left for these wastes of sun-scorched sand
In the blessed English weather.
We left when the leafy lanes were green
And the trees met overhead,
The rippling brooks ran clear and gay,
The air was sweet with the scent of hay,
How well I remember the very day
And the words my mother said!
We have toiled and striven and fought it out
Under the hard blue sky,
