Billy & I – by Dryblower Murphy

A faithful mate of days gone by—
A friend of many a far-off track,—
And yet you here neglected lie,
Battered, old, and black.

How oft before I brought you West,
I’ve heard you sing and bubble;
How oft you’ve shared each tramp and rest
And fleeting joy or trouble.

Thro’ each and every change of luck,
Thro’ fortune’s smiles and frowns,
Have you and I together stuck,
In ups and downs.

Each stinted meal to mind you bring,
Each mile of hopeless drag —
I feel again your measure swing,
Against a phantom swag.

And yet your music sped the miles
Of weary scrubs and plains.
And bid me strive for fortune’s smiles,
While youth was in my veins.

Your muffled jingle beat the time,
As loosely on my back you hung —
O’er sandy stretch or mountain climb
Your gentle rhythm rung.

Away from cities’ roar and rush
Have you and I together tramped,
And far amid the forest’s hush
Together we have camped.

In summer nights, how sweet it seemed
To set you on the leaping blaze.
While smoke, sweet-scented, lightly streamed
Towards the leafy haze.

From Danadoo to Mittagong
I’ve carried you with pride;
I’ve dipped you in each billabong
Along the Great Divide.

From Otway up to Murray Bridge,
From Bendigo to Sale,
From Brandy Creek to Bogong Ridge,
And up the Mitchell Vale.

Around the great Victoria Lake,
Along the coastal reach
Where ninety miles of rollers break
On ninety miles of beach.

So working on with spells of rest,
With spirits high and pocket low,
Until we struck the Golden West
A year or two ago,

Where, tho our luck’s not been the best
We’ve still a decent show,
And I’ve a wife to share the nest,
For cares of living grow.

But I find, tho married and settled,
And considered as quite secure,
That a loaf well made, and a table laid,
Can never my passion cure.—
Can never the wand’ring fever kill,
And a stay-at-home life assure.

But Billy—the house is still,
The fire is burning bright,
Again your battered old hulk I’ll fill,
And drink to the past to-night.
I’ll seem to see each valley and hill
In the mythical dancing light.

Each stinted meal to mind you’ll bring,
each mile of hopeless drag;
I’ll feel again your measured swing
Against a phantom swag.

So merrily bubble and sing.
Tho’ old and battered and black,
The best of mates together we’ll cling,
And visit again on fancy’s wing
Each well-remembered track.