While The Billy BoilsSearchAt a point where the old road crossesThe river, and turns to the right,I'd camp'd with the team; and the hossesWas all fix'd up for the night.I'd been to town to carryA load to the Cudgegong,And I'd taken the youngster, Harry,On a trip as I'd promis'd him long.
I had seven more, and anotherThat died at the age of three;But they all took arter the mother,And Harry took arter me.And from the tiniest laddie'Twas always his fondest dreamTo go on the roads with his daddy,And help him to drive the team.
He was bright at the school, and clever,The best of the youngsters there,And the teacher said there was neverA lad that promis'd so fair.And I half forgot life's battle,An' its long, hard-beaten road,In the sound of the youngster's prattleFrom his perch on the top o' the load.
An' when he was tir'd o' ridin'I'd lift him down for a walk,And he'd say, at my silence chidin','Now, daddy, tell me some talk.'And oft by the camp fire sittin',When the bush was round us wild,I'd yarn by the hour, forgettin'That Harry was only a child.
But, to-day he'd been strange and quiet,An' lay on the chaff bags still;An' tho' he'd bravely deny it,I know'd as the boy was ill.He said he was 'only dosey,'In his queer old-fashion'd way;And I fix'd him up warm an'-cosey,In the hammock under the dray.
I fried him some eggs and some bakin'Which I couldn't get him to touch;And it set my heart a achin',For he'd always eaten so much.I wander'd about half silly,And thought that my heart would stop;And the tea got cold in the billy,For I couldn't a'tasted a drop.
I'd seen the same sickness of'en,An' my spirits began to droop,For as soon as he started coughin'I know'd as he'd got the croup.'Twas fifteen mile to the river,An' Gulgong was twenty-five;An' I thought 'twas a chance if everI got him back home alive.
The thought of the loss was horridIf the young 'un was taken away;And I went an' lean'd my foreheadAgainst the tire o' the dray.And sudden I started cryin',And sobb'd like a woman, too;For I felt that the boy was dyin',And I didn't know what to do.
All helpless I was and lonely,But I thought 'twas a coward's cryTo call on the Saviour onlyWhen trouble or death was nigh.But after a while I liftedMy eyes to the steely blueOf the sky, where somethin' driftedLike a great white cockatoo.
An' nearer it came, and nearer,Right down to the branch of the tree;And it seem'd when its shape grew clearer,Like the form of a woman to me.For a moment it seem'd to tarry,An' p'int away up the road,An' then seem'd pintin' at Harry,A-coughin' beneath the load.
I don't want ter arger; there's chances ...The vision was only the sky,Or the smoke outlin'd on the branches,Or a lonely cloud on high.But I says 'twas a message from Glory;'I sees as yer going to chaff;Just wait till I done my story,An' laugh if yer want to laugh.
Away went the vision flyin';Up into the blue it went;And I stood for a minute tryin'To think what its comin' meant.When it flash'd on my brain like lightnin';An' arter I thought it strangeI'd almost forgotten old BrightenWho liv'd on the top of the range.He liv'd on a small selection,Or used ter live there I know'd;An' it lay in a west direction,'Bout five miles back from the road.I harness'd the horses quickerThan ever I'd taken 'em out;An' they must 'a thought me in liquor,For the way as I shov'd 'em about.
I'd allers bin fond o' sneerin'An' laughin' at women's ways;I could see in their lives, I'm fearin',But little as call'd for praise;But now when I thought he'd smotherWith croup in the lonely wild,Good God, how I long'd for a motherTo save the life of my child.I seed in a vision each minitThe youngster nurs'd back into life,An' the hand of a woman was in it,An' the woman was Brighton's wife.
There's times when not knowin' a bliss is,As Harry's school-teacher 'ud say;And I didn't know Brighton's missisHad gone to the town that day.
In a moment I'd lifted HarryTo the bags on top of the load;And I flogg'd the weary horsesAlong on the dusty road.But ev'ry thing seem'd to hinderMy hopes when I reach'd the hut,For there wasn't a light in the winder,And both o' the doors was shut.
That moment my heart got hurted,An' I felt it for many a day;For I thought that the place was deserted,An' Brighten had gone away.But I call'd, and the door was open'd,An' I saw that the hut was alight;It hadn't shone in the winders,For the moon was shinin' bright.
An' there in the door, with a candle,I saw old Brighten stand,With his fingers grasping the handleOf a pistol he held in his hand.'If anyone moves,' he shouted,'I'll fire if I've got to hang!'For the moment he never doubted'Twas a visit from Gard'ner's gang.
I didn't move in a hurry;For a man in a fright shoots quick.But I told him he needn't flurry,'Twas only a youngster sick.'Stan' back,' said old Brighten, snatchin'An' shuttin' the door in his fright;'It's typhoid, maybe, he's catchin';An' I can't have him here to-night.'
But a woman's voice shouted, 'What is it?'I'd never seen her before;She was only there on a visit,'Twas Brighton's sister-in-law.An' nothin' seem'd able to frightenThis woman so pale an' thin;She push'd from the door old Brighten,An' carried the youngster in.
She'd bin hospital nurse in the city,I heard, and had got the sackFor havin' a little pity,An' exposin' a doctor quack;Some trump'd-up stories agin herAll over the town was bell'd;An' in spite of the fightin' in her,They got her at last expell'd.
An', talkin' o' fight, I'm fearin'There's sudden fightin' in storeFor the first as speaks in my hearin''Gin Brighton's sister-in-law;For, in spite of old Brighton's cussin',She got the youngster to bed;And arter a week's good nussin'She won him back from the dead.
And then I began to hankerFor a speech to tell her the joyThe joy I felt in my heart, and to thank herFor givin' me back my boy.The mornin' I left old Brighton's,While puttin' the horses to,I puzzled my brains to make upA speech as I thought would do.
She lifted the youngster and kissed him,And helped him into the dray;An' I thought of how I'd 'a' miss'd him,If he'd only been taken away.'An' mum,' I sez, 'I oughter—'An' to finish the speech I tries;But all on a sudden the waterKem bubblin' up to my eyes.
An' downward, like watercourses,The tears began to tear;An' I had to swear at the horsesTo hide my weakness from her.But the tears was only human,An' they seemed to ha' done some good;For she pressed my hand like a woman,An' said that she understood.