And then they had us up for ridin' foul,
And warned us off the tracks for twelve months each,
To get our livin' any way we could;
But Ikey wasn't touched, because his boss
Was judge and steward and the Lord knows what.
But Mister -- if you'll lend us half-a-crown,
I know three certain winners at the Park --
Three certain cops as no one knows but me;
And -- thank you, Mister, come an' have a beer
(I always like a beer about this time) . . .
Well, so long, Mister, till we meet again.
The Road to Gundagai
The mountain road goes up and down,
From Gundagai to Tumut Town.
And branching off there runs a track,
Across the foothills grim and black,
Across the plains and ranges grey
To Sydney city far away.
. . . . .
It came by chance one day that I
From Tumut rode to Gundagai.
And reached about the evening tide
The crossing where the roads divide;
And, waiting at the crossing place,
I saw a maiden fair of face,
With eyes of deepest violet blue,
And cheeks to match the rose in hue --
The fairest maids Australia knows
Are bred among the mountain snows.
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