The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld. : 1866 - 1939)(about) |
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Saturday 16 March 1895
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8 corrections, most recently by mgregory - Show corrections
Flotsam and Jetsam.
Songs of the Bush.
[Some readers who have been kind enough to send in contributions for this column evidently do not understand that only bush songs are wanted. The majority of so-called songs sent in are simply poems, often of the sender's own composition. While some
of these are worthy of publication, and are therefore held with a view to future insertion, they can have no place in this column, which is reserved for songs and songs only.] OUR BRAVE STEEDS. (Supplied by " Jumping Jenny," Belyando.) AIR—"Ring the bell, watchman." I'll sing of the horses so gallant and bold That we rode far and fast in those brave days of old. Days of our hot youth, long vanished away, When riding meant danger, and danger meant play. CHORUS,—Then a cheer for the brave steeds that carried us o'er The mountains and plains in those brave days of yore, Days of our hot youth, long vanished away, When riding meant danger, and danger meant play. Remember the fierce chase, when; madden'd with fright, The wild horses broke into furious flight, How down the steep mountain, and racing them hard, We swept with them proudly right into the yard. Remember, while smashing and crushing their track, Through the vine-tangled brigalow the cleanskins made back, How we headed and rushed them right out on the plain, 'Mid the sweet-smelling wattle flowers falling like rain. Remember the stout hearts that breasted the wave When the yellow flood waters had else proved oar grave ; Remember old Jack on that waterless ride, How he toiled to the fountain, there lay down and died. Around, the camp fire it's a glory to dwell On the deeds of the chargers that carried us well, On some wonderful leap, or a glorious run, The journeys we'd made and the races we'd won. The days of our hot youth have long passed away, The brave steeds we once rode have turned into clay ; Our eyes will grow dim and a tear trickle o'er When we think of our gallant companions of yore.