herself on his back might ride,
    And the Swagman would carry her safely through.

   He would travel gaily from daylight's flush
    Till after the stars hung out their lamps,
   There was never his like in the open bush,
    And never his match on the cattle-camps.
   For faster horses might well be found
    On racing tracks, or a plain's extent,
   But few, if any, on broken ground
    Could see the way that the Swagman went.

   When this girl's father, old Jim Carew,
    Was droving out on the Castlereagh
   With Conroy's cattle, a wire came through
    To say that his wife couldn't live the day.
   And he was a hundred miles from home,
    As flies the crow, with never a track,
   Through plains as pathless as ocean's foam,
    He mounted straight on the Swagman's back.

   He left the camp by the sundown light,
    And the settlers out on the Marthaguy
   Awoke and heard, in the dead of night,
    A single horseman hurrying by.
   He crossed the Bogan at Dandaloo,
    And many a mile of the silent plain
   That lonely rider behind him threw
    Before they settled to sleep again.

   He rode all night and he steered his course
    By the shining stars with a bushman's skill,
   And every time that he pressed his horse
    The Swagman answered him gamely still.
   He neared his home as the east was bright,
    The doctor met him outside the town:
   'Carew!  How far did you come last night?'
    'A hundred miles since the sun went down.'

   And his wife got round, and an oath he passed,
    So long as he or one of his breed
   Could raise a coin, though it took their last
    The Swagman never should want a feed.
   And Kate Carew, when her father died,
    She kept the horse and she kept him well:
   The pride of the district far and wide,
    He lived in style at the bush hotel.

   Such was the Swagman; and Ryan knew
    Nothing about could pace the crack;
   Little he'd care for the man in blue
    If once he got on the Swagman's back.
   But how to do it?  A word let fall
    Gave him the hint as the girl passed by;
   Nothing but 'Swagman — stable-wall;
    'Go to the stable and mind your eye.'

   He caught her meaning, and quickly turned
    To the trooper:  'Reckon you'll gain a stripe
   By arresting me, and it's easily earned;
    Let's go to the stable and get my pipe,
   The Swagman has it.'  So off they went,
    And soon as ever they turned their backs
   The girl slipped down, on some errand bent
    Behind the stable, and seized an axe.

   The trooper stood at the stable door
    While Ryan went in quite cool and slow,
   And then (the trick had been played before)
    The girl outside gave the wall a blow.
   Three slabs fell out of the stable wall —
    'Twas done 'fore ever the trooper knew —
   And Ryan, as soon as he saw them fall,
    Mounted the Swagman and rushed him through.

   The trooper heard the hoof-beats ring
    In the stable yard, and he slammed the gate,
   But the Swagman rose with a mighty spring
    At the fence, and the trooper fired too late,
   As they raced away and his shots flew wide
    And Ryan no longer need care a rap,
   For never a horse that was lapped in hide
    Could catch the Swagman in Conroy's Gap.

   And that's the story.  You want to know
    If Ryan came back to his Kate Carew;
   Of course he should have, as stories go,
    But the worst of it is, this story's true:
   And in real life it's a certain rule,
    Whatever poets and authors say
   Of high-toned robbers and all their school,
    These horsethief fellows aren't built that way.

   Come back!  Don't hope it — the slinking hound,
    He sloped across to the Queensland side,
   And sold the Swagman for fifty pound,
    And stole the money, and more beside.
   And took to drink, and by some good chance
    Was killed — thrown out of a stolen trap.
   And that was the end of this small romance,
    The end of the story of Conroy's Gap.